I stand alone in a bitter world, scattered across wooden floors and blanketed by exigent dust. From a zero pair to infinite doubts and choleric words. No one lends a hand, no one will. You have two, I have two. Most of the time, forbidden to plea for three. Problems can arrise from abyss, and take fractions of hearts and love, and thoughtfullness.
An opposite attraction, denied to be brethren. At will, a dazed few of one's experiences (note the "one's", yes, not "ones' ", but "one's"). Burying all respect for compassion and digging up egoistical terms and literary fatuity. Egoistical terms and literary fatuity, it makes me think. Maybe, a previously dug grave for whom who snatches those egoistical terms and literary fatuity...
Blind gossip (for the writer), and shocking throes for readers and by standers. Who, who who who who who. Who, really needs to know updates on your scorn to another? Well, my prediction: soon, that grave will get deeper, you will write more scorn notes, about people who let you go because; of those very scorn notes of others.
An opposite attraction, denied to be brethren. At will, a dazed few of one's experiences (note the "one's", yes, not "ones' ", but "one's"). Burying all respect for compassion and digging up egoistical terms and literary fatuity. Egoistical terms and literary fatuity, it makes me think. Maybe, a previously dug grave for whom who snatches those egoistical terms and literary fatuity...
Blind gossip (for the writer), and shocking throes for readers and by standers. Who, who who who who who. Who, really needs to know updates on your scorn to another? Well, my prediction: soon, that grave will get deeper, you will write more scorn notes, about people who let you go because; of those very scorn notes of others.
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