Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
A mighty trophy
Polished so much
It's dull
Sparkles and shines
Suffocated
By wax wishes

Others rubbed on
Perfection
I died for you once
And I told myself-
I would never again
Make a graveyard out of a garden

- why do I always cut away the flowers to make room for tombstones
Next page