Little divested flower,
Shame— how you break with the peak of light.
A blossom they might think,
You're still a phony stick.
Is it guilt filling the scene?
Or is it just the sunbeam?
May 13, 2022
May 13, 2022 at 2:24 PM UTC
She a Shakespeare's poem
Sometimes dying blue
Inside a dome
The crying clue
To find a home
In nowhere true
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 8:28 PM UTC