Bitten
J
James McLain
0
Altın Yaprak
Bitten,
so you want to be bitten.
In the corner you sit in a chair.
Watching I wait, waiting I watch.
Seeing the look on your face I prepare.
Meant to be seen most are not.
To what end does a bush hide a tree?
At the base are what color the leaves.
Thick are the vines that move wrapped around
a silent trapped voice deep inside.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş