Nov 2012
Is there no pen for my hand to bear?
No thought tamed by self owned wit?
The stationary leers into me,
My mind succumbs to hysterical fit.
To what veil shrouds my mind?
A clairvoyant candle once for lit.
O' my imagination's seems,
... acquaintances
far past met.
No thought tamed by self owned wit?
The stationary leers into me,
My mind succumbs to hysterical fit.
To what veil shrouds my mind?
A clairvoyant candle once for lit.
O' my imagination's seems,
... acquaintances
far past met.
I wanted to add another poem... but I couldn't think of anything... so I wrote this one
