Bull

Sometimes he’s like a bull, he can only see the red

And he cannot form a thought, when it’s her that’s in his head

And he cannot figure out, how to remove the friend that’s in his bed

And I swear she’s so devout, she won’t give him any space to tred

Β© Delia Ross. 2019

Published by PoeEternal

I'm gone. Maybe it's like I never existed at all.

9 thoughts on “Bull

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