Quite a tangle is a foot, In the angle at the meddling Melody of soot, That in territory of trouble […]
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One Word, Two Sentences.
For decisions Of the intertwine, On certainty reverse. The majesty of mercury, Is opportune And curse.
When I am surrounded By so many Of their everyone’s, Am I really Any of My anyone?
As weakness feels sure, The strength drenched In trenches, Is of angles And of Greeting anger As a lure.
I looked at, Myself And said, “I am better Than this.” And This Looked back, And said “Who you?”
My photo in a mirror, Turned the page Of which to be, And who in me To Adore.