Some have cuts,
Of boiling flesh
And mirthful sorrow,
Yet, I have grief,
On which I drown
This blaring hollow.
~.•.~
VOUS LISEZ
Untold Whispers
PoésieYour time's running, what will you say? What will remain untold? HR #64 in Poetry
Habit
Some have cuts,
Of boiling flesh
And mirthful sorrow,
Yet, I have grief,
On which I drown
This blaring hollow.
~.•.~
