I have been writing plenty of poetry lately, though
The door was red, red and always locked.
He'd say, "Don't come in today." If you ever knockedThe sun was red, red and always setting.It was the setting, not the rising, I was regretting.His hair was red, red and always growing.He danced & jumped in puddles when it was snowing.Her heart was red, red and always beating.She spent every day trying to quell its constant heating.
1 comment:
I really like this.
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