Alone

in poetry •  last year  (edited)

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Alone with my thoughts on a rose field while a yearn for the mad hatter
So much perfection that preludes thorn and poison
Only a draft of chaos can sure the sickly sweetness on the field
There’s a misconception of grace attached to roses, but where are the eyes when the thumb bleeds from a thorn.

poetry poems roses fields
last year by

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