Your words,
They sting.
They float like bees
In the middle of spring.
Around they go,
From head to toe.
Yet I try
To swat them away.
But they stay.
And leave a stain to this very day.
Mar 21, 2024
Mar 21, 2024 at 4:53 PM UTC
Your words,
They sting.
They float like bees
In the middle of spring.
Around they go,
From head to toe.
Yet I try
To swat them away.
But they stay.
And leave a stain to this very day.
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