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lightbulb-martinPoems
And at them She can't get up. ***** ***** She won't get down. Around this town She gots no secrets Not inease Of her own. Thin call parties hurt now sewn nun invited no shuns deal lichen Hair and herself Being all lone. Head side treading threads She splits fine item eyed crates to diskew Full freight Fair rebate sans wits In dings she sings Small of a sudden Leaped wings to retch doubt stunned her Reach doubt to fund her joy none derive all ease she Collars treat all green eights Whimbling out loud Uncle Ere... All gut the Inks mussed come to an in she thinks Or else tries Umph in gals.
0
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC
An Ant Hymn
And at them She can't get up. ***** ***** She won't get down. Around this town She gots no secrets Not inease Of her own. Thin call parties hurt now sewn nun invited no shuns deal lichen Hair and herself Being all lone. Head side treading threads She splits fine item eyed crates to diskew Full freight Fair rebate sans wits In dings she sings Small of a sudden Leaped wings to retch doubt stunned her Reach doubt to fund her joy none derive all ease she Collars treat all green eights Whimbling out loud Uncle Ere... All gut the Inks mussed come to an in she thinks Or else tries Umph in gals.
My apologies for the varied versions of this thing...
lightbulb-martin
Written by
lightbulb-martin
American
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC
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