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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#388001voted by our readers
By TheRockerWriter GOLD
Hartland, Wisconsin
The hot air is the color of yellow, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.The cold air is the sound of an orchestra, a symphony to my ears.The silence of the still air is the shape of...
Hartland, Wisconsin
The hot air is the color of yellow, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.The cold air is the sound of an orchestra, a symphony to my ears.The silence of the still air is the shape of...