They flow from me quite easily.
The words fall like mere dust.
Some leaves are whisked breezily,
They too smell of a musk.
A musk, oh so stinky.
Rotten verbs, deceased nouns,
Things that simply make you frown.
These things I make they are so dank.
They're like the ships already sank.
For no day goes by I do not lie.
I wish someone would tell me why.
YOU ARE READING
A Ceiling Fan
PoetryMany things take place within a person's mind. Some good and some bad. Most times their inner thoughts run through their mind without being penned down or expressed. This book is a poetry book. It is filled with poems that express those inner though...
