For death will applaud to us and w… To thee not death.

poetry in my bones, just a little plenty in my bones, it burns and burns even when i try cleanse away creativity in my bones, i have love for other things;

I breath through Sheets of everlasting words.

I write Like every Words will Be a hit in Someone’s heart.

There are sweetness in his blazing… Admiration of kind mind that winds… So, why halt? when the symphony Of grasp still commence, I can see the shadow line of where

How does he speak? With his mouth or his body Or with help or no help, with His crew but he dare not own a boa… For a boat would majestically

Today is never as lifeless like da… Was meant to be; the woods are idl… And birds pestering a harmless tre… And the squirrels knitting fiercel… And different people walking throu…

Only If You Could jump Out

I do not write my poetry for no-on… And every dawn, i do not reason wh… —On about mystic my work chaperon… Mystic is me but with more time yo… You will break the mystery and lea…

When in battle We know men But not fully, We know men that Folds up their sleeve

A misfit is not a wish Neither is it a pitch, an area, a… Its about your balance The ability of practice or talent… Attitude to the frost and stagnant…

How deep Can love Swim Or How

Morning by days not less or late Her heart flutters and fail’d to b… I tossed her arms up and down, Her arms dare to stay and it drop’… Her lips was wide, curve while her…

I will not Pretend to Read long books Because of My little