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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#191411voted by our readers
By SweetSunset GOLD
Blasdell, New York
My gown, Is ripped, And charred, My hands, Are cold, And hard, My halo, Is bent, My tail, Sticks out, My horns, Erupt from my, Forehead. But at least, I still have,...
Blasdell, New York
My gown, Is ripped, And charred, My hands, Are cold, And hard, My halo, Is bent, My tail, Sticks out, My horns, Erupt from my, Forehead. But at least, I still have,...