Jim
Jim’s hands shake As he sits in his plastic chair, His bald head speckled with white hairs, His eyes big and blank. I see him but I don’t see him often He keeps relapsing, disappearing I think about how it’s likely No one will find
Jim’s hands shake As he sits in his plastic chair, His bald head speckled with white hairs, His eyes big and blank. I see him but I don’t see him often He keeps relapsing, disappearing I think about how it’s likely No one will find