"She sells seashells by the sea shore"
"Why the fuck sell them there?" is my only...
You are cedarwood and vanilla
sparsely thriving in my...
"What the fuck?!"
I half question and exclaim...
Trepidation permeates my
every thought...
They place us
in such well crafted...
A violin are her vocals.
For her lips speak no words, nor lyrics heard...
Oh Mirror I stand in front of thee,
And peer inside your realm of glee...
We live once
So forget about the pains...
*Authors note: like a pendulum, this poem should...
from the twelfth strike to the first and then back...
One thing I never understood is "time."
Why we can't turn it back, why we can't slow it...