Learn more about other poetry terms
One time I talked to a stone wall, and it was just like talking to you. Except without the interuptions. I say, Hey, Wall, what's happenin'? You think you're trapping me,
You are the sunshine i am the rain i just wanted You to be mine but You were avoiding pain
Mouths slightly open like pitchers holding whatever happens to be on our tongues waiting for words to cool to room temperature as to not shatter the glass we pour them into.
The blossoms of Asia, uprooted and relocated to the provinces of suburbia. Dolls, SUVs and ornate lawns, adorn and pretense the decaying minds of the dawn.