Aug 2022
My glasses are *****.
The clock says six thirty.
My brain is real flirty.
I'm missing my man.
With scribbles so wordy,
I sit here so boredly.
I miss him so sorely.
We'll meet when we can.
The clock says six thirty.
My brain is real flirty.
I'm missing my man.
With scribbles so wordy,
I sit here so boredly.
I miss him so sorely.
We'll meet when we can.
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 57.
Set 3, poem 57.
(24/F/Pennsylvania)
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