the space we shared in the room made of black was encroached by our inability to think for ourselves
I may look like the last thing you would expect to see rowing along a river made of the remains of the long dead
yet I remind you that your humanity is something you hide away in the back corner of your closet
YOU ARE READING
Crossing the dark moon
PoetryIt is up to every man to choose what path they follow. Whether it be in fairness or out of spite, the choice is up to the individual at the end of the road
