The bitter melancholy
Stings the open wound on my lip,
Bit through the parched skin;
Words which I tartly exhale
Only find their way out
After catching;
Perhaps my mouth would be best
Kept closed.
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 11:45 PM UTC
The bitter melancholy
Stings the open wound on my lip,
Bit through the parched skin;
Words which I tartly exhale
Only find their way out
After catching;
Perhaps my mouth would be best
Kept closed.
