His name was Graffito
Everybody wrote on him.
And left purple and blues under his eyes
Random X's And random O's
Telling stories on his body.
Just like Graffiti.
Only seen if you take the time...to decipher every line.
YOU ARE READING
Excerpts From A Book Ill Never Write| #Wattys2018
Poetry©2017 By dallywinston1738 or Annaka Logue or Annaka Marie ||All rights reserved.|| ||Plagerism is punishable by law|| These silent thoughts were stuck in my head. Wanting, begging,pleading to be let out. They never ended up becoming more than a few...
