Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
In Time
In the abcense of my time,
Can a weed be planted in my mind.
One you can never rid,
It keeps to grow.
Latin words expands, setting trends on fire.
My soul, can never be for hire.
Acid burning blood, runs through my veins,
You seldom will hear me complain.
Even if it means,
I fell in love,
With pain
poem
by
Unic Cjonr
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black