False ID


You wash joy with bubbles from the sharp
of your shape. Do assimilate the
knowledge and learn not to throw
yourself in. There will be a warm fuss of
dissatisfaction inside this freezing
cave where you
reside.
You have a world. A world of misuse.
You have me. An existence of dissipation.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


[facebookall_comments]

Leave a Reply