of a son
A rispetto I often relive my mistakes. I often sense life has no point. I often think I'm being too fake. No one's left for me to disappoint. I often curse under my breath. I often imagine my death. I often feel I'm not worth shit. More often than I'd like to admit.
My 2nd Alouette Oft, I underrate My own some-day fate... Feeling I'm here for my child, Hoping to bequeath Firm blade for her sheath, Of many insights compiled. I'm mostly of thoughts And abandoned soughts, Verses my greatest pleasure. I pen ever more, Hoping that before End, she's sure of her measure. The Alouette This… Continue reading Be for, or: Before
A shadorma Dangerous dusk doubt lies in pride in one's pen. Have I inked the cleverest verses I'll ever deliver?
