Drunk
Its a faded winter memoryA story from long past
It was a cold January night
There was nothing but broken glass
The air was chilling
I came across a broken path
The snowflakes fell gracefully
As I lay, dunk on the train tracks
I woke up to the blinding sun
The snow turned into ash
My head was in red hot flames
And there was vomit in the grass
Poetry by Rannalta Gratland
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Written on 2013-01-07 at 04:00
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