What more is there young lady?
Between a poor mans way, than a life well lived?
To be upon a golden carriage or ride a dying pig?
What great a life worth nothing if all is as small as a dime?
Young lady, I see you through my telescope
and all strife deserves no time.
YOU ARE READING
Raining
PoetryJust a bunch of poetry about the way I see myself and the way I see others.Just me speaking from the chaotic mess I call my mind :) enjoy!
