Dec 2017
Hope
Is a feather lurking on a stem
From the bird that left for a foreigner wind
Whispering to you but you can barely hear,
"Go back, I have nothing to give you..."
Is a feather lurking on a stem
From the bird that left for a foreigner wind
Whispering to you but you can barely hear,
"Go back, I have nothing to give you..."
Hope is catastrophe. It's ruse.
