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She was conceived of fire Rubies And fate Her long winter breath Curling down My hate Mist on her fingers Swirling Beach tides Snow ladden leaves Youthful In Autum's lie She's sick of November Thrashing In grey It's almost December Timing A wolf's prey Who would ever save a golden moon?
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Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
November
She was conceived of fire Rubies And fate Her long winter breath Curling down My hate Mist on her fingers Swirling Beach tides Snow ladden leaves Youthful In Autum's lie She's sick of November Thrashing In grey It's almost December Timing A wolf's prey Who would ever save a golden moon?
It's time to write again.
lycanthethrope
Written by
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
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