DismalA Poem by Maxwell Ryder
I feel dismal. In a moment's notice, I've grown gristled into an old gnarl of thistle. Pawning off my epistles, my life looks abysmal. My body's no longer chiseled, for I've been sitting too long in this swivel, touting conspiratorial drivel.
© 2018 Maxwell RyderReviews
|
Stats
99 Views
1 Review Added on February 8, 2018 Last Updated on February 8, 2018 Author
|