A precious gift,
is not to ought,
a tale that has been written,
can not be repeated,
a share of wistful woes,
grow pity on you,
your actions speak but nothing,
but I seek the truth,
a wisdom of experts,
share nothing,
but imaginative tales,
but on the wings of the lustful,
memories can become to heart.
is not to ought,
a tale that has been written,
can not be repeated,
a share of wistful woes,
grow pity on you,
your actions speak but nothing,
but I seek the truth,
a wisdom of experts,
share nothing,
but imaginative tales,
but on the wings of the lustful,
memories can become to heart.
A poem that came out of my head... xd
Hope you like it.
