There is a place,
where the red grass grows.
A place of wonder,
that which nobody knows.
Where trees are painted,
of beets so red.
Where everything lives,
as long as it's dead.
Of heaven or hell,
it remains unknown.
For it is the only place,
where the red grass is grown.
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A/N: what is this even. I must be high cuz i have no idea where this came from.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry/Short Stories
PoetryThis used to be for my joint account but they all fell off the earth! So I'll just sit here and wait with my bad poetry and short stories. Enjoy! ❤️ (Toolazy to change cover)
