My, my, my
If there aren't times
I sure despise
Finding myself outside
｡:ﾟ✧ ☆ ✧:｡
Shame, shame, shame
That at the end of each
Of every day
The wind is hoarse
From howling out my name
Apr 20, 2025
Apr 20, 2025 at 8:31 PM UTC
My, my, my
If there aren't times
I sure despise
Finding myself outside
｡:ﾟ✧ ☆ ✧:｡
Shame, shame, shame
That at the end of each
Of every day
The wind is hoarse
From howling out my name
Request permission to use this poem