He was the man of the century, with wild-stained lips and weary-stained eyes. His heart blossomed only for the freshest chrysanthemums, as he cut them down, one by one, and burned them.
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GOLD & SILVER
PoetryTHEN THE THUNDERSTORM CAME, AND RUNIED WHAT WAS LEFT OF THEM. © - 2017 SADNECCESSARY
WHAT HE WAS
He was the man of the century, with wild-stained lips and weary-stained eyes. His heart blossomed only for the freshest chrysanthemums, as he cut them down, one by one, and burned them.
