He's been terrified of his ow face
Since a single sight had made him race
- in a terrible twist of fate,
The memory represents all that's not great.
With unblinking, electric blue eyes
That time turned colder yet not more wise,
That's the gaze stuck on his back,
Making calmness a trait he'll always lack.
YOU ARE READING
A phone book
PoetryA loose continuation of A Few Hysterical Words, this time focused on character descriptions.
