Aug 2020
Rotting on the inside
Emptying the self of mourning
Gathering my pearls for swine
Roses bloomed here once
Every spring I plucked them for you
Summer is a stranger now
So it seems are you
Emptying the self of mourning
Gathering my pearls for swine
Roses bloomed here once
Every spring I plucked them for you
Summer is a stranger now
So it seems are you
Comment a word and I'll make a poem of it... I need something to distract myself
