The wirs; whistle
Prestigace melancholy
To their voices,
Merely whispers now.
An aftermath of discord
This epoch of anarchy
I never share these
Demons with them
But your baffling now
Waiting--
Your mind is muddled
Melding the wrong words to connections
I never made.
The disarray, in time
Becomes albany.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 1:46 PM UTC
The wirs; whistle
Prestigace melancholy
To their voices,
Merely whispers now.
An aftermath of discord
This epoch of anarchy
I never share these
Demons with them
But your baffling now
Waiting--
Your mind is muddled
Melding the wrong words to connections
I never made.
The disarray, in time
Becomes albany.
