#wheather
I Woke up with the words of this poem whispering on my lips, It was a cold January morning within the pomegranate trees.
The storm had passed two days now.
There was a forecast of Screaming with chance of tears.
The Clouds had been Clumped together.
They had appeared compressed and so close that Less light reflected upon them.
what revealed to be a visible mass had in actuality divided and turned black, stricken with lightning.
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 10:39 PM UTC
I don't know what to do
I don't know where to go and whether
I don't know whether to
destroy the old and create a new one
I don't know what to do
I don't know what to do
Today very bad wheather
I don't know what to do
Im very hate everything now ever
I don't know what to do
I don't know where to go and whether
I don't know whether to
destroy the old and create a new one
I don't know what to do
I don't know what to do
Today very bad wheather
I don't know what to do
Im very hate everything now ever
2017
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 12:58 PM UTC