poetry corner 038 – 3 Points.

The things,
I express them.
Banish and dispel.

The moonlight strikes me more significant from the bottom of this well.

And to think,
Always I try not.
Consider it forgotten.

One bad apple in the mix now the whole salad is rotten.

Bid high,
Bitter little swallows.
Infected marrow.

Silence follows you everywhere from the inkwell to the shallows.

Or did you think i’d forgotten…? I did.

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