Poetic symphonies View this tyranny Tearing my book of rhymes to pieces.
The deep-ness
techniques of ' IT ".
From it. Of it. I am IT because I know it I show it. Reading up On Agrippa I hold a tight grip when i rip the fabric of another lizard. The soul is Measured daily on a scale. Will it weighs less than a feather quill? The truth not the REAL. I'm thankful for what inspires me bodies deteriorating from society I dare someone to define me. Because of the Latin alphabetum these words just keep settling in