Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 11
The number was marked on the the cattle to mark but sinotdated every compone that knows no number or guns but of the life was not at the beacon time woods coldest top for a no crossing to all roots of natures beast that ran of the pine timber to man or so the rain grew the vicious forest that spawned branches to hide the head under the leaves so he wouldn't see for tree grew in no light to park at the smallest chance that the sapling trees to cater to not even the the banter the price was yours to Prince was his and yours alone the died amongst dire greenery
Pricers
Written by
Pricers  22/M/Texas
(22/M/Texas)   
34
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems