Poem No. 24
i expected to be a stone carved smooth, gracing its rough edges of beauty, as my ridges aligned with what you loved in me. yet this block of rotten wood lay whittle laden, a mishap of the art that i could have turned into.
i expected to be a stone carved smooth, gracing its rough edges of beauty, as my ridges aligned with what you loved in me. yet this block of rotten wood lay whittle laden, a mishap of the art that i could have turned into.