The Dharma Boy

Thrown down below
By a trick of time
Well dark and deep
Black burning eyes

And bleeding toes
And scorched knees
Too many bottles
Crushed under his feet

You used to call him
The Dharma Boy
Maker of dreams
And glittering toys

He used to call you
Lovely Miss Wont
Lady of the blue bird
Unbreakable bond

Thrown down below
A fall out of grace
Your slippery walls
Consumed his nails

But blood has gone dry
And so did the tears
Of The Dharma Boy
Maker of dreams.

2 thoughts on “The Dharma Boy

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