The singed scent of something smart and supposedly scary looking. That slippery snake of sex and the hiding from the sun. It's a song, a sound, stuttered in the sand. Suffocated in statements of satin and simply similar in safety. The solutions of set standards solved something but sometimes specific songs sound in our solemn minds. The stupidity of society is shockingly split down the middle with a scarf of spit from all the sorrow and sadness that sat in silence with sheets of something else. Shaking in silver, she sought so spectacularly. Something spoken softly in the seasons, not a saint, never, silly.
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Last Night
ŞiirDark poem collection from the span of a few years, slowly editing the early ones. The later ones are pretty good. Don't be afraid to give feedback. Please read, vote, and comment!
