Freedom! Aye, but whence?
A taste treacly than honeyed cherry, but how?
till nose retired from nature bestowed factory?
The moment skin became a knit of drunk mad baby?
Perhaps the day eye turn a beam less sun that reflect naught.
And wits, a Solemn deserter of the glory castle that once stood our proud brains.
Nov 2, 2019
Nov 2, 2019 at 4:03 AM UTC
Freedom! Aye, but whence?
A taste treacly than honeyed cherry, but how?
till nose retired from nature bestowed factory?
The moment skin became a knit of drunk mad baby?
Perhaps the day eye turn a beam less sun that reflect naught.
And wits, a Solemn deserter of the glory castle that once stood our proud brains.