Poetry, QuillSolitudePosted on March 14, 2019 My solitude beckons me, It mocks me every night, And I, the prey, Wrap myself in my words, They surround me, my words, They take me away, Yet I know it hunts, My solitude, for my broken excuse, of a broken soul, That runs away from his fate.
gamefly says: each time i used to read smaller articles which also clear their motive, and that is also happening with this paragraph which I am reading at this time.
each time i used to read smaller articles which also clear their
motive, and that is also happening with this paragraph which I am reading at this time.