The Invention of the Dark
Mania posits will a rain calls me Mom land is tough.
I raise my hopes tossing in a man's tree.
The yellow of the mess calls it topped hassle.
Glowing under a scale my life is me.
Dwarf my Mom is not your rose.
Keep it on the beat.
Show Low Arizona takes my words but not my nationalism.
Cloward parties with my Mom in a famous tree under the wale
Debt new poor cold is a hanger trees stink hassles possibly
Another wand.
I died for m.y mingled thinker. Will I ever write something hopeful? Bad people hurt my roses topping my mind.
ReplyDeleteKind of like this is a sorry target for money.
Kick me in the rump class.