/w
Words and words out of my mouth
But never at the right time
Can't thing of what to wright,
Barely thought of a rhyme;
The syllables went fuck-all
The sense in this poem followed
I don't even know what I'm writing now
And my head was hollowed;
I kinda like it though
YOU ARE READING
Shades of Grey - a Specific, Separate Story for Something
PoetryPoems. Literally poems. Don't question the title. Honestly, I don't even know anymore. It's 11:55 p.m., I don't know what I'm doing. Okay, a sensible description! Let's go! I enjoy poetry, so here's a book of it! This is pretty much a subcategory o...
