flower child

Learn more about other poetry terms

Bed of thorns, vacant flowerbeds, Flowers plucked and torn, your loyalties shed. Flower crown of spikes, flower crown of thorns, Wicked wicker-weaved words swarm.    I'm selling secrets a dozen a bundle
At times, I feel like a small speck in this world. A small miserable speck. Why? Because the galaxies of our universe swallow me up to the point I am digested into the
Subscribe to flower child