the spider weaves his web in the corner-
a merry butterfly falls for the trap.
the beautiful pink wings stuck in death-
she could fly, now, she can just wish for.
YOU ARE READING
young spell of rain
Poetryjust short emotions like the earliest shower at midnights
pink wings
the spider weaves his web in the corner-
a merry butterfly falls for the trap.
the beautiful pink wings stuck in death-
she could fly, now, she can just wish for.
