I sit alone, cold,
in a room I call my own
where no one visits.
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 7:41 AM UTC
Fresh corpses line the boulevard
as the street lights do,
and thrushes sing a requiem
for the old man who
lights a white candle each morning.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 5:46 PM UTC