Pensmoke Poems Writing

The kiss of death The breath of rot Hidden behind cherry red And masked by mint Gruesome in spirit Vile in intention Stuffed in an hourgla..

Land of the free Yet my blood isn't rich enough Home of the brave Yet everyone is scared of me Be yourself No, not like that 6'2, 36..

Ah the despicle and vile things Mocking my despair They circle They laugh They examine They laugh They know your finished So th..