Poetry is my reason
in the season of winter...
Red rose paint on my finger tips
And my cheeks lightly blushed...
Masks and scary faces, hiding in dark places
Dressed in death, it drapes their skin...
I am the wicked
the misleading truth...
Ashes of the wilting flower and i
we share a connection in our eyes...
Shadows drift upon the old groaning ship.
the whispering wind whips...
The floor a black and white checkered board
me the won reward...
Ha-Ha-Ha
The laughter thunders...
Hand prints on the sidewalk
names written in rainbow chalk...
There once was an angel of virtue
whose name was known as Neol...
A little known but none the less true hero of the...
A born again Puritan he was one of the last men to...
You have no idea how i feel,
Or how you treated me...