Shattered windows, and the sounds of drums. People couldn't believe what I'd become.
Six word poems, and I'm the king of the world. Bow down.
Cold Saturday nights, sleep alone. The dark thoughts, hidden.
Eyes closed, sinful pictures flash. Summer rain, holding hands.
First kiss, laughter. By the third, breath is lost.
Friday night, youthful celebrations. Sunday morning, innocence lost.
A/N- Take what you want from this one. It was originally meant to be read as one thing, but it has a nice feel to it if taken as a series of disjointed haiku.
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