Shots Fired

One shot, one kill. Target practice. Unlimited ammo. Army strong. Wanna dance? Last chance...

Eastbound

An angel with no mercy, sin I will cut

Copperhead

A poem about sneakery and lying. Narcissism. Snakey habits.

War

Take heed my warning For death is coming The skies are painted red Mud instead is raining And burying the dead No amount of training Prepared for the bloodshed Β© Delia Ross. 2019

There is no hope that lies here It seems the desert beams with blood Tears instead of rain do flood Only the dark leers (c) Delia Ross. 2013. All Rights Reserved.