It is white, pristine, and pure,
Nothing Changes,
Nothing Grows,
Under that beautiful snow,
So Different,
So Mysterious,
If I went to Hell,
I would miss it so.
Sincerely, F.T. Rockwell
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My heart's not black, it's not white, it's gray like an elephant's skin.
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1 comment:
Your next poem should be about how fucking amazing I am.
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