Jul 2013
These tears
I cry
are like old
paint peeling
off a wall.
Tears,
tears,
tears.
You may probably
ask where
is your
purity of
strength-hood?
And I will
reply in this
poem. I have
not any
to speak of.
I cry
are like old
paint peeling
off a wall.
Tears,
tears,
tears.
You may probably
ask where
is your
purity of
strength-hood?
And I will
reply in this
poem. I have
not any
to speak of.
