A shot in a flesh
too sharp, is enough to be rip.
Using ink of a blue,
Unformly draw a shapes.
Not knowing when to rest,
Untold stories I'll manifest.
I draw more in a depth
and reds drop and drip.
Ownself's my canvass,
and so the soul's bawling.
That vanity acts on it,
Those carvings had a dark one.
BINABASA MO ANG
The Writings
NezařaditelnéDon't read if you don't want. This is not a story. Expressions. Feelings. Imagination is in here. Own work. So this is not a professional. You can see some errors. Thank You.
