Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2016
My silence bites him like the frost in winter
My mystique eats at him till he no longer exists
I wear honesty on my eyes and lustre on my lips
But now He sees through that disguise, when did he become like this?
S
Written by
S  Forest
(Forest)   
198
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems