A lot of you out there seem to think it's time.A Poem by Soil Creep
Ice plated components of chest plated subdivisions
pattern out onto a snow blasted, wind covered ire. At the time of writing, a licked warming fluid contradicts a slimy suspicion that if today is certainty, then those of us plastering the cloud cover will know first-hand what will become of us.
© 2013 Soil Creep |
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