There was trouble Then a tumbling down Maybe it was a mirage Or a wasteland of thought Now another treasure is in the trash Thrown…
rebellious writer
There was trouble Then a tumbling down Maybe it was a mirage Or a wasteland of thought Now another treasure is in the trash Thrown…
The night air was colder than cold But even so I stepped outside Walking into the moonlight Shadows danced frigidly before me My wishes fluttered…