Once I winced with the windy white winter wondering outside the window. It rose and roared like a rustling river rearing our round of ransom.
Seven stolen sticks stand slowly surrounding some serious snakes. Mr. Man moved mesmerised with mindless madness and malicious manor.
YOU ARE READING
Infinity
PoetryA dazzling view of words. Multiple perspectives of life and my deepest thoughts and feelings. I write to relieve it all. Thanks for reading! ~Highest rank: #102 in poetry~
