UntitledSophistry suffices for sins,I don't mean anything by this. Pure anecdotes can cry,Fear, sleep, die,But, how will I,Live, carry on, fly?
CoffeeCoffee, you are a countless courier of my most exhausting days. The problem is I can't always sense your taste. So, when I have you in mug, And you haven't yet dried up,I pour more for myself out of senseless waste.