(poem) show all
some things start t'make sense
and others make sense at t'start
both change so what good you got on road
felt a tinge on skint worked awhile away
why no things uncolourful wit inward charm
transpires forward but all love cunt
transpunked outwards again hatefuck
whodiddit this time? noped p'dad.
passion poem offspring
comment
55207 spitball