where no man has gone
before, bravely
mapping out new parts
jungles, animals
or concrete people?
itchy skins, foreign faces
as if it's never been done
before, boldly
into the
abyss
YOU ARE READING
Sweet Enough
Poetrywe grow like fruits, until ripe and get plucked and discarded, if not sweet enough. *** a compilation of poems, thoughts and other reflections.
