"divorced" poems
We used to swing under the big willow tree
We lived 3 doors down from each other
We were princesses who fought dragons
We could save the kingdom and find our prince by lunch time
Our moms laughed and talked about how cute we were
Four years old was a cute age
Fast forward a bit
We went into elementary school innocent and young
Boys had cooties
Girls had cooties
Kickball always ended with someone getting hit in the face
We would always sit out field and pick grass and shape it into a little birds nest
Life was good
Until your parents started fighting and I mean really fighting.
It scared me and I would have to go home
I would make you come with me
three doors down
Our moms didn’t laugh anymore
By Christmas break your parents were broken up and divorced
Eight years old was a confusing age
Junior high was mean.
Girls would rip you to shreds and then hang pieces of you on everyone’s lockers
Boys just wanted to make out
A whirlwind of uncontrolled hormones
We were the quiet ones
Always flew under the radar
Just trying to make it out alive
We found a little spot to eat lunch under the stairs where no one would go
We giggled and talked about boys who didn’t even know that we existed
I remember crying in the bathroom with you because people were brutal and we weren’t good enough
Our moms worried about us and how distant we were becoming
Thirteen years old was a sad age
Highschool is another story
You were put in the hospital for a month
I was left at school alone
I had to find more friends
I found most of them were fake
So I ate my lunch in a bathroom stall
Reading all the swear words that were carved in the wall
You were really sick and we grew apart
We were always close
We will always love each other
You tried to save me from myself
But I didn’t let you
Seventeen was an important age
Now we are at different colleges
I tried to **** myself while you were getting an A on your anatomy test
It’s sad
We don’t swing under the big willow tree or fight dragons anymore
Our moms hardly talk
You are a success
and I am a failure
We don’t really mesh
I miss you every day
I’m sorry I can’t be good enough for you
We were princesses who lived three doors down, we saved the kingdom.
I love you
I’m sorry this has faded
Just like everything else
Nineteen years old is a dying age.
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 4:23 AM UTC
we were at this table,
men and women,
after dinner.
somehow
the conversation got
around to
***
one of the ladies
stated firmly that
the only cure for
***
was old
age.
there were other
remarks
that I have
forgotten,
except for one
which came from this
German guest
once married,
now divorced
also, I had seen
him with
any number of
beautiful young
girlfriends.
anyhow, after quietly
listening
to our conversation
for some time
he asked us,
"what's ***
now here was one
truly touched
by
the angels.
the light was so
bright
we
all looked
away.
12.3k
Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow talle?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!
12.1k
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Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
I see a ****** of crows
parting the sky with
a ********** V
it hawks and blecks
down as if to say
good afternoon
to the child wheeling
across federal
on her
pink bicycle—
a travel
that rots and witches
the sweet, grey air
sailing into clouds
of pounding tide—
jewels
colorless
and divorced
drifting
across the
blue-domed
pearl of
missing you
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 5:58 PM UTC
*I'm too fixated in each moment -
Each moment feels so intense,
I'm lost
On the dark side of the moon,
And nothing here has any warmth,
Worth or substance ~
Nothing here makes any sense.
Even my own shadow has left me.
The Monsters, still lurking
In the darkness,
Have stolen all of my hopes
And dreams away,
I can hear the wolves,
They are hauntingly howling -
There's nowhere safe that I can run to,
On this, here, dark, dreary day.
There will be no stars
To light up the pitch-black night-skies,
They have already fallen,
Just like the Angels
That I once loved and knew,
Everything that I once held onto
As sacred, has been molested -
I've been abandoned, once again;
Hell, again, I am being forced
To walk through.
Alone, I was born and raised,
Only my pain has been consistent-
It has held my hand
Throughout my entire life.
At some point, somehow,
I stupidly gave birth
To expectations,
Luckily, I woke up
And divorced reality,
Hence becoming solitude's
Dedicated and loving wife.
On the dark side of the moon
Compassion, loyalty and trust
Are nonexistent.
Evil dwells in almost every man
And woman,
Each with his or her own agenda,
Each with his or her own selfish plan.
Saviors do not exist,
Superheroes all wear masks,
Unconditional love is but an illusion,
Here, I revert to relying solely
On the harshness of reality,
For, the truth, it always exposes
And unmasks.
The dark side of the moon
Is a very lonely, isolating place,
In which to dwell,
There is no sunshine,
No stars or Angels -
The only light visible
Comes from the flames
Of the evildoers'
Raging fiery hell!
Placed here against my will,
No lush green valley in sight,
Taken away
From the divinity of nature,
I was cruelly robbed
Of my radiant life-giving daylight.
Doomed for being too real,
Too open and too honest,
Doomed for loving too much.
Doomed for believing in superheroes,
Doomed for allowing a human
To become my crutch.
Doomed for being too empathetic,
Doomed for being too sincere.
Doomed for being too kind
And too generous,
I'm doomed, abandoned here.
I blame only myself
For allowing my intuitive awareness
And intelligence to fade away
Like the stars that once adorned
Every exquisite night-sky,
I blame only myself
For not using the blessed insight
Of my third eye.
I'm too fixated in each moment,
Each moment feels so intense,
I'm too passionate about life
To give up and remain imprisoned
On the dark side of the moon...
But I'm too emotionally weak
And disappointed to jump the fence.
By Lady R.F. (C)2018*
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 12:27 AM UTC
I don’t speak for everyone,
I can only speak for me.
I don’t want a silly toy to
Make me feel weak at the knee.
I don’t want a handsome savior,
Riding in on a white horse
Just so years later I end up
Sad, fat and divorced.
I want to be myself,
Open and free.
No one on this earth
Who should chain me.
Not outside of privacy of my bedroom.
Can you blame me?
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 12:24 PM UTC
Candlestick lit,
predatory form divorced
Daybreak take your feet
Assault me with rough dissonant hands
Take from me your bright request
Down in the valley curtains part
The thin plane light overflows
Without light-seeking caresses in the clear sky
Bold accommodations of the sunbursts
To Save
Appalachia
The displeased living hear of me
With Vivomantic symbols
After blackened nights begin
Fornicating on your birthday
Off his downswing that has passed...
"How the call it is unfulfilled
your mind, thoroughly healed
Terrestrial white feathers
And tame plains lament
Yet less tame after
His darkness heals you".
That summer day when the rain shaded shallow
And as dull walls divorce the Bejeweled earth.
You don the nakedness of supernatural awakendness
Painted by these symbols Aiseralam spoke...
Appalachia
The displeased living hear of me
With Vivomantic symbols
After blackened nights begin
Fornicating on your birthday
Off his downswing that has passed...
Candlestick lit,
predatory form divorced
Daybreak take your feet
Assault me with rough dissonant hands
Take from me your bright request
Down in the valley curtains part
The thin plane light overflows
Without light-seeking caresses in the clear sky
Bold accommodations of the sunbursts
To Save
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 9:02 AM UTC
I hate love songs.
It's just a sappy little tune of someone else's expectations.
I expect certain things for my life
But they'll never be what is written in a song
Love songs are like movies.
People write songs and movies about people living happily after ever.
Well that's completely false.
Because no one lives happily ever after.
We watch these movies and listen to these songs and build up our own expectations
Only to be let down when we realize that this is reality
We think "Oh I want a love like that."
When really, there's no such thing as true love.
Right?
I don't know.
That's kinda how I think of it.
Love songs ****
Because we latch onto what that person is saying, hoping we're gonna find that someday
But look at how hopeless we are
I'm so hopeless
I don't know what to think about love
There's so many degrees of love
Finding that true person who just happens to know everything about you
And likes it.
And you like all those things about them
But why?
Everybody's all like "love is such an amazing thing."
Like there's no faults in it
Like people don't cheat on each other
And people don't break up with each other for no reason
Like there's no back-stabbing
Like it doesn't ever fall apart because you have the glue to hold it together
But what's the point of love when there's so many faults that come with it
Let's face it
Everybody throws the word "love" around like it's a baseball
"I love you" "I love you too"
Bull.
Because then it ends and it's like "Oh but I thought you were in love?"
I wonder if love lasts forever.
I mean nothing lasts forever
I wonder if you can stay in love with the same person forever
I mean how's that possible?
Don't you get sick of looking at that person?
Don't you ever feel like being with someone else
I don't know. Maybe I'm saying this because I've never experienced love
With anyone special
Just meaningless relationships
From my youth that I knew would never last
Then what was the point of being with that person
Fun?
It ***** to have a hopeless crush that you know will never happen
But maybe it never happens because you DON'T believe
I don't know.
People should find that one person
Everybody has a God given right to find love
They need to find it the right way
People have one night stands with random strangers
How can you honestly make love to someone and feel something called "love" to someone you just met?
Like how?
You shouldn't give yourself to someone you don't know
In my opinion, you shouldn't give yourself to anyone unless you know you're gonna spend the rest of your life with that person
And I'm not just saying that because I'm a Christian
I wasn't planning on giving myself to anyone before I was married, before I found God
Sure, that's a part of it
Because *** before marriage is a sin
But I didn't have an expectation of having *** with anyone before I was married
And the only way to know if you'll spend, "forever", "eternity"
With that person is not when you put the engagement ring on
But the wedding ring
Because an engagement ring means nothing
It's just an announcement that you're planning on a future
It's nothing set in stone
People might say, "Yeah but you can always get divorced."
When I get married, that's not an option.
Because why would I throw something away that I know can hopefully be fixed?
People might say, "How can I not have *** in this relationship?"
It's easy.
Don't.
Love is so fake.
And yet, so real.
I have love songs
But listen to them all the time because I build up that expectation
But let's face it
We don't always get the fairytale we want
I hate love songs for one reason
You expect so much in your future
You're waiting for that prince to come save you
But come on.
That's fake.
I hate love songs.
I hate love movies.
I hate love.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 12:34 PM UTC
Modern Day Cinderella
Everyone knows the fairytale
a precious little girl
growing up in hell
with her step-sisters
and step-mom of evil
that want nothing more,
but to trap her in her shell.
As you all know their plan
to hide her away
and keep her from her prince
failed miserably.
This story can relate to a girl I once knew.
Though in her story
she isn't saved by a fella,
this is my modern day cinderella.
Coming from a broken home,
so nothing normal ever known.
Parents divorced before the fighting
could be imprinted in her memory.
Two years later her father remarried.
So all the sudden she had a new family.
Things were okay at the start,
until she got a little older.
Then it all started to rot.
The stepmother turning green,
full of envy, turning mean.
Father always working late,
her mother off on drugs wasting away.
No one was around to notice the change,
to see the pain on that little girls face.
Her step-mom made her cry everyday.
Hate was the term,
used on a regular basis.
The fear this women created,
evil ever so jaded.
Picking up after her step-sisters day after day.
Who loved to use their anger
to make fun of her, tease her
if she didn't appease them.
Spending all the time she could
hiding in her room
for hours upon end.
They preferred her to be non-existent.
There came a day where
she became brave
and decided to take a stand
she played her hand
escaped the fate she was trapped in
breaking the chains.
Ending this story I tell ya
of modern day Cinderella.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 1:29 PM UTC
Love and the gentle heart are one thing,
just as the poet says in his verse,
each from the other one as well divorced
as reason from the mind’s reasoning.
Nature craves love, and then creates love king,
and makes the heart a palace where he’ll stay,
perhaps a shorter or a longer day,
breathing quietly, gently slumbering.
Then beauty in a virtuous woman’s face
makes the eyes yearn, and strikes the heart,
so that the eyes’ desire’s reborn again,
and often, rooting there with longing, stays,
Till love, at last, out of its dreaming starts.
Woman’s moved likewise by a virtuous man.
4.9k
Labels.
Judgement.
Stigma.
Will we not even try to understand?
To hold out our hand?
To come alongside.
In words of comfort.
Words of love.
To the divorced.
Who feel like they've failed.
Labels.
Judgement.
Stigma.
Will we not even try to understand?
To hold out our hand?
To the mentally ill.
Whose tormenting thoughts are a living hell.
Labels.
Judgement.
Stigma.
Will we not even try to understand?
To hold out our hand?
To the lost teen caught up in the downward
spiral of addiction.
Where escape from life is so appealing to them.
Labels.
Judgement.
Stigma.
Will we not even try to understand?
To hold out our hand?
To the homeless man without a dime.
Whose every moment is a struggle to survive.
Labels.
Judgement.
Stigma.
Will we not even try to understand?
To hold out our hand?
To the child in the classroom who doesn't fit in.
Who needs an aide to settle them.
Labels.
Judgement.
Stigma.
Will we not even try?
To accept.
To comfort.
To...
love.
To hold out our hand.
And then...
watch God heal.
The broken hearts.
Of the marginalized.
From the pain
of
the
stigma.
Of those who don't fit in.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 11:44 PM UTC
*death:
an abnormality—
deep prints left by
heavy boots filled with water
and washed away by
summer’s end.
grief:
a metal
sensation denude of
coldness—swelled up again
and again from life’s ***** driving
deeply.*
I suppose you couldn’t
help but steal away.
you (now endangered
ghost) left your
trace fossils moted,
gray and cold.
our memories of you
divorced from the
mountain’s path—
a wound raised
higher and higher
to a crystal peak
where your soul
was plucked cleanly out.
we built cairns to
mark your going
and stories to signal your
inevitable re-arrival.
we welcomed the heavy contact
of fire felt in the
middle of the chest
and watered
arches cut beneath
the eyelids.
we felt the frigidness of
lit feet gliding
above mountain frost
and set forth your
eternal journey
to the solar eclipse.
but somehow
we lost your trace fossils
frozen in the rock.
*where did you go?
who found you?
why?*
these are the questions
of extinction of the
physical body
but the soul is
unmatched in
its uncertainty.
if it exists, it leaves
upon time of death
and reenters when looked
at through shielded glass.
*soul:
a mountain
view, black and polished
by an unfurled moon. its
brother sun not far
behind.*
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC
“Grades are getting low,
the teens are getting high.
That 12 year old is pregnant
and her parents wonder why.
A 1st grader is swearing,
a 3rd grader has been *****
Just take a look around you,
isn’t the system great?
Who isn’t faded these days,
teens are sending nudes,
kids are getting beaten,
the teachers see the bruises.
No calls for help are spoken,
teens are smoking ****
young girls are cutting,
this isn’t what we need.
The marks of taunt and yelling,
parents are divorced.
That 14 year old is drinking beer,
this can’t get any worse.
A little girl has killed herself,
nobody seems to care.
Another kid has been expelled
for a stupid dare.
But it needs to change.
Our world is officially broken.
It’s time to take a stand;
your thoughts need to be spoken.”
Thoughts are running wild
As the tears stream down my face.
Depressed and suicidal,
But I should just stay in my place.
I’m feeling kinda broken,
Feeling kinda lost.
I wanna make my pain
Just go away at any cost.
Don’t get me wrong, I grew up
In a nice enough neighborhood.
And I did everything that
Anybody said I should.
But it wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t me.
I thought that I could help the world
With the things I’ve seen.
My cousin lost herself
In drinking hard and smoking ***
My good friend tried to run away
And lose her past a lot.
I, myself, have struggled
With thoughts of losing it all.
The pro and cons of jumping off
That cliff into the free fall.
I mean if there's something that can save me
Then it'll show up, right?
It's worth the wait to take a blade to my wrist
And **** it up, right?
The truth is, I don't know
How to do this and win the fight.
I need someone to show me
There's still a ray of light.
I fell into a pit of despair
And it consumed me.
I guess the only way to help the world
Was to lose me.
Finding myself is gonna take a while.
Don't know if I can make it.
Keep giving out my heart
Hoping someone will take it.
Drinking, smoking,
Doing everything to make me numb.
Doing stupid things.
Making people call me dumb.
Popping pills like candy
Just to get me through the day.
Trying to end it all;
To make the pain just go away.
It wasn't perfect. Never.
It wasn't good enough for anyone.
So I always sat alone
And wished my life was done.
~Ashton Grayson Everly
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 1:27 PM UTC
(Sing along to the tune 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer).
This is a futuristic Christmas,
Sing along in an ode,
Global warming's reached the North Pole,
That's the end of ice and snow.
The Arctic's now a surf beach,
All your gifts out of reach,
There's some really naughty bad elves,
They're keeping all the gifts for themselves!
Where did good ole Santa go?
He's been on the **
Santa came in bad girls' lane,
And he never was seen again!
Now Santa's got survivor baggage,
Mrs. Santa tossed away his clothes,
She divorced dear old Santa,
For hoing all the hoes!
Now there's a big beach party,
No Christmases ever again!
The bad girls are giving it to Santa,
No Christmases ever again!
This is a futuristic Christmas,
Global warming's reached the North Pole,
Sing along with Santa,
A futuristic Christmas in an ode!!!
(Let's Party...HO ** ** Samta knows where all the bad girls go!!)
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC
Oh, on earth I swore, never to get married again
After getting divorced, glad to relinquish the pain
Trapped in a filthy cage
Filled with painful rage
Great depression
Little Self-obsession
And Hurtful emotions
Clearly feels
Like oppression
Harsh aggression
Without confession
Wanted to mention
Tell a suggestion
For all I know, my beauty is not of such a great exception
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 8:24 PM UTC
i watched blankets of people
rip themselves off of you
one by one by one
you were no longer beautiful to them,
the wrong things became important to you
and so
they left and you
turned cold.
i still find you beautiful
but i have divorced my heart from you
there's not much to say when i see you,
not enough space to feel when i'm around you,
not enough affection to resuscitate
all of the moments you let me drown.
i don't want to hate you anymore, but
i don't want to love you either. both of them are
painful, so i get caught in between.
i wish i could wish you a happy mother's day
and feed into your belief
that you are a good mother, the belief you use to cover up
your deep seated self hatred
but i can't.
i will always find you beautiful
but i won't be around anymore
to tell you that.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
*She was feeling sorry for herself
After two years divorced
and passing forty it seemed hopeless.
A string of encounters
that were empty and sad.
She had given up on ever
Finding someone to love.
At least he left her the house
And the kids she would focus on them.
The new neighbor seemed nice
He had a twelvish daughter.
She broke some china plates
In the garden by accident.
He just held her and comforted
Her don’t worry he said
There are worse things happen at sea.
Her ex would have yelled so loud.
She sat by her pool it was midnight
She had finished her swim
Looking up she saw her neighbor
He had a bottle of Chablis and two glasses.
May I join you he said.
He had kind eyes
Only if you don’t get the wrong idea
She smiled.
He took his clothes off and dived
naked into the pool.
He was lean and tanned
And cut through the bluewater
Like a fish.
He stopped and rested by her chair
Looking into her eyes
He said softly
You have beautiful breast.
She blushed and pulled
her robe together.
He said don’t you ever get lonely I do.
She nodded quietly.
Are you lonely now
Yes she whispered.
Three years later
Their new baby
Was getting used to the pool water.
Their older kids were swimming
And having a good time.
He brings the baby to her
and they all kiss.
I love you so much honey he said. .
She never remembered being so happy.
And he was hers only hers
Well and the kids also.
A tear of joy fell down her face.
As she said
Not as much as I love you my love*
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
Man and men everywhere;
Silver-fox, gay, several-times re-married & divorced.
But not one without baggage to be seen —
Pimped up with ****
Waged weary by work or
Isolated through layered losses,
The modern man: a peculiar specimen.
It seduces the obvious why we turn to women to fill the void;
Upside-down desires? Or love that truly inspires?
Jan 16, 2024
Jan 16, 2024 at 7:28 PM UTC
Once there was an extrovert who dreamed of keeping her cool
But when the guests arrived and the room bubbled
with possible stories to tell and comments to make
her wall-flower capabilities shed like snake skin
and her voice stirred the crowd
and they all swore that the weather
was controlled by her breath
pushing out words.
Once there was an extrovert who dreamed of being cool,
okay, maybe not really. Maybe just a little.
The type of cool that says they aren't but are
but she was too loud
and extrovert-ed
and her cool divorced her body a really long time ago.
Once there was an extrovert who wanted to be
the reflection of everything introvert
totally wasn't, so she spoke up
and her petals fell from her neck
onto the ground and were trampled on,
and the wall-paper started to tear
off her shoulders, and in fact
it wasn't sticking at all.
It felt kind of nice.
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 1:41 AM UTC
Princess Diana was born in England and died in France.
When she was in a car crash, she didn't have a chance.
She divorced Prince Charles of Wales just one year before she died.
Diana was only 36 years old and her death was mourned worldwide.
When somebody dies that young, it's always hard to understand.
She did charity work and was trying to have landmines banned.
Harry and William are Diana's sons.
If she hadn't died, she would be 61.
For many, Diana's death was a devastating blow.
She was a princess who died a quarter of a century ago.
Aug 31, 2022
Aug 31, 2022 at 1:29 PM UTC
To die,
To fall,
To lose,
In an act of,
Life-giving,
Spirit lifting,
Victory,
Is simply,
Nonsensical,
And yet,
Perfect,
Completely,
Irrational,
And yet,
Thought out,
And so,
Incomprehensible,
With human mind,
But absolutely,
And definitely,
The right thing to do,
Because God loved the world so much,
He would let his own creation,
Take his only son from him,
To save his creation,
From the hands of evil.
And the best thing?
The most amazing and inconceivable thing of all,
Is that he did it for all mankind.
Athiest
Agnostic
Christian
Jew
Muslim
Sikh
Hindu
Buddhist
Black
White
Straight
Gay
Lesbian
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SAVED
Every single human being ever born is saved.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
i feel heavy
and old.
i feel
right
aligned.
young ones
make me
laugh
and smile
with their
antics
their
innocence
their curiosity
but i quickly
grow grim
because i know
someday
they will be
like me.
right aligned.
attuned to the desperate
march of the masses
full of hope
and then
withered to
dust
try to be independent
girls
get your education
girls
and your loans
girls
get married
girls
get divorced
girls
get a job
girls
get laid off
girls
lose your health insurance
girls
try to hold your head high
girls
try not to cry
girls
don't run out of gas
girls
learn to put air in your tires
girls
get used to silence
girls
get used to disappointment
girls
learn to command your voice
girls
don't look back
girls.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
^¡^
little girl gets angry
hits a boy at school
sent home by the principle
'cos she broke the rules
this was most unfortunate
with liquor on his breath
her father pulled his belt out
and beat her half to death
*none of us have halos
none of us have wings
none of us are "there" yet
as the choir sings
our minds are set on stupid
we think of earthly things
no, none of us have halos
none of us have wings*
Johnny, feeling hurt inside,
takes his tournequet
pours his lady snow out
to fix himself a hit
he didn't know how strong it was
that it could do him harm
he dies in a public bathroom
with a needle in his arm
[CHORUS]
dad has had a kind of lapse
he had an affair
mom just up and left him
divorced him then and there
now his little girl has bruises
'cos of liquor in his head
due to a wife who left him
his son, Johnny, is dead
*have you graduated?
with a high degree
in personal perfection?
if not, then let it be
I don't claim to be flying
as my transgression clings
'cos none of have halos
none of us have wings*
SøułSurvivør
(C) 9/12/2017
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 1:58 PM UTC