O moon, when I
stalk you, why do you
bleed the colors?
Calm down. Virginity
is out for lisping. Impaled,
the spirit ― starts dying.
Don't sell the body
of the poem. Can you ask
the songbird to stop?
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: March 15th, 2024 20:06
- Category: Nature
- Views: 1
Offline)
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