He was p o e t r y,
in a world that was still l e a r n i n g t h e a l p h a b e t
YOU ARE READING
Oleander-COMPLETED
PoetryALL RIGHTS RESERVED Her words were like oleander flowers, so delicate, like a gossamer spider string, but poisonous, like her scarred, despondent heart. *in other words, my crap poetry that is still really important to me*
Poetry
He was p o e t r y,
in a world that was still l e a r n i n g t h e a l p h a b e t
