Post by Bleeding Quill on Aug 12, 2012 17:33:27 GMT -8
My poetic words go past my lips falling onto paper,
that I write with my pen with ink to black,
that bleeds through to the table,
in witch my words spew across forming a poem on it's edge.
that I write with my pen with ink to black,
that bleeds through to the table,
in witch my words spew across forming a poem on it's edge.
