I know it's hard to forget puddles of blood,
but how about puddles of tea?
Ink or rain water?
Instead of bruises,
clouds.
Replace cuts,
with cats whiskers.
Succeed annihilation,
with loquacity.
YOU ARE READING
Laugh with a Draft
PuisiI wrote a poem, I sometimes do that. __ But in finality and purity, these words mean so much- yet I'm blinded by their insincerity. All this is, is a dishonest fold of revelation, self-accusation, and starvation. And so much more, more to be rimmed...
