I wringed out your clouds,
But not a drip or drop was left for me..
Medusas stare glaring at me: my familiarity,
YOU ARE READING
The Dysfunctional Series-Poems
PoesíaLife can be distant, misunderstood, lacking a certian kind of mood so striding along like the walls are not closing in and shadows creeping in can be difficult almost impossible.This is the Dysfunctional Series.
Medusa
I wringed out your clouds,
But not a drip or drop was left for me..
Medusas stare glaring at me: my familiarity,
