once it exists, it scratches the back of my skull.
I feel the tickle.
all the colors are now dull.
all the surface's wrinkled.
if you wish to goodbye me,
then the news are rather bad:
i have done some dying,
but still not too dead.
i'll keep on crawling on your footprints,
as a hexed loner.
no pride's found in misfits,
and not too much of honor
creep
© Copyright: Неттер Линг, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123080307259
Свидетельство о публикации №123080307259
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