that's just massive how it feels.
That soil we're made of.
The sense that appears,
a bittersweet flavor.
Can you do me a favor?
Just pay it no mind.
In the mid of my room,
Sour despair looked around and left soon,
didn't spellbound
by me,
we all desire surcease
after vague memories.
incoherent mumble, 3 a. m
© Copyright: Неттер Линг, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122021007572
Свидетельство о публикации №122021007572
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