Pencils are the voices for the papers to hear
Listen intently to the scraps filled to the bone
Of words piled upon words
Of screams upon smiles
Of agony upon love
As if the noises can erode the mountains
Split the seas with a stroke
Cut the hearts with a period.
YOU ARE READING
Star-Crossed in Parallel Lines
Poetry-Poetry -Quotes -Scenarios -Imaginaries -A piece of my heart ( and limb ) -A key to my inner most disturbing thoughts -The passage to my sanctuary Still want to enter? Good luck, I'm currently undergoing a mission to finally understand the wilde...
