The Creeps

A collection of Sad, Creepy short stories

Whispers | Poetry

My poetry is gold Written with a smirk or a scowl Poured out from the depths of my soul And mashed to words in a bowl decanted in the form of ink on rusty paper folds worth more than the price of mink my treasure to behold I write about my life and other people's strife cut deep with the edge of a knife and I'll write...