Then, there was the boy of savvy fires.
He was spirited, boastful and full of zesty desires.
He did nothing for me personally, he was merely a tool;
A ghastly, mostly primitive, fool of a tool.
With him, as soon as I pointed at a singular flaw,
He cast me away with a final swing of his claw.
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The Optical Illusion - A Pastiche of Poems
Short StoryPoems like these usually aren't shared because people prefer to keep their emotions hidden and out of sight for whatever reason. I simply don't believe in that though. That's why I decided to share these personal poems that express how I felt in eac...
