Rue Morgue Avenue
by grimbeau
Bullets rain,
winds prance,
Cold suns rise,
firebirds dance.
Sirens wail,
beggars chant:
Honi soi qui mal y pense.
Bullets rain,
winds prance,
Cold suns rise,
firebirds dance.
Sirens wail,
beggars chant:
Honi soi qui mal y pense.
bad thoughts indeed, and all too true…
LikeLiked by 1 person
bad thoughts, and all too true!
LikeLiked by 1 person
so eye heard
LikeLiked by 1 person