a toast to the writer for their pessimistic notes
the mood is sinking fast, the words are drifting down in boats
the pages billow out like sails, torn by jagged lies
the spine stands tall just like a mast, battered by wistful sighs
YOU ARE READING
dark poems
Poetrythis seems like poetry and prose sometimes it's more than you'd suppose see, what my mind creates, goes but what that is, nobody knows
