I'm a flurry.
A canvas with thin lines,
Bloody,
Etched into the fingertip flesh
Who reminisces of its date
With the inky paper.
One king.
One conqueror.
One legend who's really no legend.
One hero who's really no hero.
I identify myself as one of the four.
All of the four.
None of the four.
A fact or a fable;
The line distinguishing them
trembles
You see it as you wish to see it.
I see it for what it really is;
Exactly as I wish.
The good
The bad
The ubiquitous
ESTÁS LEYENDO
the bottom of the spiral staircase
PoesíaAn enchiridion of all my experiences, feelings and general thoughts. Just a compilation of poems I've written in my spare time throughout the years, or ones I wrote three minutes ago and will regret in the morning. Whichever way, this is my outlet...
