Take my hand and you’ll be well,
I cannot tell you how I dwell on the absentmindedness of your sell.
You ask me have I come here for pleasure,
I sigh in despair and leave a great lingering glare,
This is preposterous, I am not monstrous.
Only for your hand, do I come, my lovely crumb.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 6:51 PM UTC
Take my hand and you’ll be well,
I cannot tell you how I dwell on the absentmindedness of your sell.
You ask me have I come here for pleasure,
I sigh in despair and leave a great lingering glare,
This is preposterous, I am not monstrous.
Only for your hand, do I come, my lovely crumb.
