Love that is not expressed mutually is the heat of the Inflation Era compressed.
All perfectly pushed into an unlucky human chest.
Burning within its own small space.
Screaming.
Begging to be free.
But the social Fee.
Of rejection is too much to face.
I guess I'll just write poetry at my place.
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Author:
William Maccarthey (
Offline) - Published: March 15th, 2017 19:32
- Category: Love
- Views: 28
Offline)
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