A very good piece does not Wake up In just one rainy day Or perhaps a sunny day If there are no luck, a very good… Might not even rise at all.
poetry in my bones, just a little plenty in my bones, it burns and burns even when i try cleanse away creativity in my bones, i have love for other things;
A small piece of metal With a shinning light, Visible yet warmth, Seek the dark smoke As it breaths
All this Is Just A front Am
The sound-cloud with a silence act… White soft smoke with a bright Foamy art, The sound-cloud travels with light And circles in an area,
It will never go or give up, It is a wanted resident Making its way to a
Demons I will bring out the demons in you I will close the trenches and make The demons feed in you They will feel what it’s like for…
Oh, the moon should be cautious of… The moon should always glance to k… If i am still here, dressed or nak… With all of my conscious sins and… Witnesses; my eyes could blindly e…
All this Words looks Exactly the Same I bet
From a writer To a Reader and From a reader To a
I am done losing my sense to tired… Bidding my streak with holliness, Conversing to the dawn in nakednes… Muting my ever so gracious talent In every nightfall,
My glasses are filled And your cups are Starting to overflow With patience and I will help
To the SS What do we call love? We would call love war Because our passions raw, We would call love friends,
Give me love O you, as sacred heart Are hard to trust. Plunge my bones With humor
My thoughts are All outlined with white Colour You don’t need to Worry; they are
