Crooked trees
Drawing crows
And haze
Veiling changes-
You're knitting
Your brows,
You're turning
The pages
Straight down
Your block
Screams
Every facade-
Could do
With a Glock,
But stuck
With a blade
Like paper
Knife cuts
The edge of
The pain -
My heroine's
Nuts;
Your kinds -
Always sane
O Glock
© Copyright: Лиза Ройт, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115022702855
Свидетельство о публикации №115022702855
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