Got bit by the writing bug.
Surely seeing solutions so small should swing sideways silly sentiments surrounding such scant suppositions sending secrets so suspicious
By Bugsy Watts3 years ago in Poets
I've tumbled over concepts all too frequently, about constituents that make a person all that they can be. * Were we stamped in the womb
I carried pieces of me, ships in a bottle, shattered when let go. * Buried in duty to helm this horrid day, home the only true course.
Seedling creature growing rich earth on its back Bulbasaur, the steadfast Tail of burning flame filled with fiery fury
I dreamt of falling, like I did every night, wondering why dreams look like northern lights. I often fell into the depths of the swirling worlds
sweet singing siren flips a flirtatious tail, leading men to their doom.
I wear a blue cloak in my neighbour's reflection. An unwanted gift.
Aconite, monkshood, even wolf's-bane, it seems poison has many names.
Neptune, fierce god of stormy, cerulean seas a planet, only.
Jays chatter always jibber-jabber, vociferate vehemently.
Your eyes are pools, I drown in with pleasure, your heart the mountain that grows
If I stand taller, than the coming ocean tide, will it be enough?
