Her hair never stayed the same
Ever changing look
She was the uncertain dame
I was frightened of love
More like losing it
Yet she created the final shove
Control of me
The muse would break
Into waves of the sea.
But she shined in her own way
Couldn't decide if she was straight or gay
I'm simply a puppet from her play.
YOU ARE READING
The New Year Lore
PoezjaPoetry describing my perspective of new years through the eyes of the others. Quite thought out. weirdly enough, in these unorderly poems, order matters. I hope you enjoy. Or at least find it a passable way to spend the time. *cough* or potentially...
