malaise makes its path towards glass of a girl’s bedroom

She holds porridge to their dry mouths

and the creaking creepy tree chiroo chiroo the night noise makes chiroo chiroo chiree

I sit at the wheel

By: Lisa Mary Armstrong Is love a gamble or a game we must play? She promised that he’d love me till his dying day I bought a love potion...

The average lifespan of a moth is eighteen days

Cloth arms bound, embroidered eyes blindfolded, shoved in a dark corner to make things right