0
 

Bipolar Habits

By: mhoc123
Competition Year: 2013
Votes (0) | Comments (0)
< Previous     Next >    
Night falls to hide the day,

confessions that were never made;

midnight sweet as the summer shade,

you opened up to the heart raid,

cause you’re the master and often the slave,

roses in one hand,

and in the other,

a grenade.
Share this poem:
Register/Login to comment