Snake skinned
I turn to notice
My skin is snake
Active sins linger
Try and be a saint
Trapping myself again wicked
I was doing great
Forbidden sweet extract
Tempts the devil will say
Snake skinned
I turn to notice
My skin is snake
Active sins linger
Try and be a saint
Trapping myself again wicked
I was doing great
Forbidden sweet extract
Tempts the devil will say
Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.
Unknown Source
Title | Comments | Submitted |
---|---|---|
Title | Comments | Submitted |
Without | 1 | 06/01/2009 |
Snake skinned | 0 | 06/01/2009 |
Inside | 2 | 06/01/2009 |
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