They might poke They might prod Be calmer Than the ripples
Source: Milk white.
Why do you weigh me with the scales in your eyes?
you will see time rush in the crashing
They cry "beautiful, beautiful” And I cringe Grateful for myopia As I tighten my turban Who dare calls a thing so imperfect Beautiful?
I was told fire can be friend or foe At times it consumes you beautifully Yet it obliterates you completely The next day.
a little blood is still blood
You trifle with mortality shun her kisses dismiss her with another sip of liquor oh manny you are running straight to deaths conference. An appointment you should be less eager to attend.