Poetry

Drink Up

Filled up my cup,
With the poison I pick,
and it’s you.

Silly.
Your lord offered you the whole kingdom of His Majestic Seven Seas, but you keep begging for venomous drops from His servants.

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Poetry

A disaster beautifully written

A beautiful disaster 

A catastrophe filling fibers of butterflies underneath my skin 

Till the bottom rift of words I could hardly speak

Filling filled yet bare without ink

A disaster beautifully written

Only just for me, by Him. 

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