A Poem About The Craft
A tasteless word
Twists like a vapor
The pen and paper escapist heard
Blurred in the mist that he conjured
Assured like, “My poetry isn’t that absurd!”
A tasteless word
Twists like a vapor
The pen and paper escapist heard
Blurred in the mist that he conjured
Assured like, “My poetry isn’t that absurd!”