They never mattered, never cared
Spout promises that cloud the air
Their selfish whispers, selfish prayers
All binding words in a wager
Their fingertips are frozen cold
For words unworth their weight in gold
Their whispering stays uncontrolled
All binding words in a wager
Unparalleled with eyes unclosed
Some words and words they have composed
Then why is it, one might suppose
They bind their words in a wager?
JE LEEST
Poems I Almost Burned (Along with My Sanity)
PoëzieWhat starts with a sandbox and ends with an epigraph? My first collection of poems.
