A random poem
With thoughts in mind,
A scrawny rhyme
To pass the time
My bag beside with
Books doth bound,
Suppressed within the
Bloodless hound,
The cavernous conquest,
The treachery unblemished,
The thoughts once
Accepted are now what we protest
And such is the
Course and against
Grains cut so fine,
A tawdry expression
To pass the time.
No comments:
Post a Comment