don't be speaky too much.
you know too many things.
I am scared of your hand touch,
formed in fist with gold rings
on.
you're unwelcomed this night, among people of lux.
like a rabid fox,
you stand still mid their sight.
you whisper, you loathe them all,
in even proportion.
But you show no emotion
whatsoever.
You hold the glass of burbon,
thinking you're looking clever.
bond girl
© Copyright: Неттер Линг, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124041402690
Свидетельство о публикации №124041402690
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