Q while holding was your gleaming tiara
back in stanza of your teeming hair a
million gobs of greasy mascara

people in white over one another
ran up your back in fear you might smother

instead you blathered
they sighed and blabbered
moonshine breathes rathered
Grievance This tiara gives me the aureola of faith. Yet, it's only an ornament, set to give me more illusions from mainstream pathways. Yet it still stills the doubt, yet without ridding me of it. It's a stagnation that should be cast off... 011018
Princess when you hold my hand,
i need not for a tiara,
for your love gives me strength
to last another day.
what's it to you?
who go