Black, Like My InkA Poem by Désiré Desrosiers The true nature of humans as a species. We're quite deceiving, are we not? Humans. gentle kind forgiving That is the outside, but the inside is polar. cruel harsh rejecting the true colors of humans are not white, like a pure silky cloth. Rather it is black, like my ink. © 2016 Désiré DesrosiersAuthor's Note
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Author
Désiré DesrosiersBerkeley, CAAboutDésiré Desrosiers is my pseudonym. Just an amateur writing broken sentences. I write my thoughts mostly in free-verse poetry. Perhaps I shall publish some short stories... more..Writing
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