Vengeance
makes a map
old
wives tails and medicine
man
show now how X
crosses
paths never worn away.
“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
For every poem I put here, there are four more never shared, around six never written and twenty-seven partially thought out. For every word...