Champagne spills.
Darkness thrills.
Drowning in chills.
If looks could kill?
No.
People kill...
Themselves.
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YOU ARE READING
Constellations Of The Mind
PoetryThoughts pulled at random from the jumble of mischief I claim to be my mind.
Champagne spills.
Darkness thrills.
Drowning in chills.
If looks could kill?
No.
People kill...
Themselves.