"Till tomorrow"
"We'll go to hell would you"
"Why not"
Once more and for the last time we were flying between two lines of trees, madly in the high wind.
"Faster! Faster!"
We were doing a hundred.
He understands~~began to choose the tree we would crash against and scream.
I was going to give the slip.
We slowed up.
"Your drunk"
Severely I stumbled, laughed stupidly.
"Goodbye!"
Poor old remnants of my dignity...
Book: Vienne.
Author: Jean Rhys
Page:124.
Blackout poetry:Me
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Poetry : A King's Poverty
PoetryA description of a king is almost defined by the way there Kingdom is perceive "Perfect" Nobody knows that, the ruler of the Land wears two crowns with two different coronation, One crown is for his might, the other is the side he never shows. As yo...
