TwistedReality
Bluelighter
Ah, the end of another notebook. My mind continues to wander, thinking in poetry, traipsing through metaphor meadows of simile lilies. The symbolism sun shines from the sky, radiant rays reaching down to alliteration alligators soaking up sun. I roll around in the grass, personified to people massaging and tickling my skin.
Life is a poem. Write it.
Life is a poem. Write it.
