Nona's Poetry Corner

Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry. (W.B. Yeats) Here lies that which is inside no more, that which burns my mind and must be expelled. Here lies the greatest of all inventions. Here lies words.

Showing posts with label insulted. Show all posts
Showing posts with label insulted. Show all posts
Monday, April 27, 2015

On nothing

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If I told you how I feel about you That would make me as bad as you. Maybe even the fact I feel this way Means I already am. I don'...
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Nona Rose
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