Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2015
Gentle dabs at the window, still.  
Maybe the clouds dip their pureness here,
purposely.

Even the greatest angel was envious–
this wickedness, these slopes and steeps–

This is humanity.
littlebrush
Written by
littlebrush
737
   ---, --- and SøułSurvivør
Please log in to view and add comments on poems