Thorned Thorns
Remorse is not my hunting course, what i do is always planned, you will not idea the clue - The moon rise, inside my soul, victory has not won, there is no prize - I never bet on the one to loose, rather crash your cash in a bin before you think of a win - Thorns of the thorned in the side of my bed, thorned thorns destroys what is the dead inside my head - Will i go, where, will i stay, there, born to be left with right, the choices with too many noises
poem by Unic Cjonr
Added by Poetry Lover
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