He sits alone in his dark
little corner of despair, and
runs his hands through his smooth
black hair. With a gutteral
cough he thinks of love,
a love that is true.
He ponders the truth.
He is miserable and dark
in his mind. No one could ever love
him. He scowls and
throws something at the cat gutterally
yelping outside. The tears ran smoothly.
The floor was smooth
as he walked about. True,
another sharp pain in his gut,
he was dark,
and brooding and
depressed. He only needed someone to love.
Yes, he needed love
that would surpass all. He thought of smooth
milky skin and tawny hair. She was a true
beauty, and his soul was terribly dark.
He contemplated telling her, but that would be too gutsy.
He was not a gutsy
person. He loved
to stand away, in a dark
corner. To hide away smoothly
and not be seen. That was true,
he thought to himself, and
he laughed, and
he moaned with gutteral
pain. This was truly
sad, to strive for love.
To touch her smooth
pale skin. The room was dark.
His epressions were dark and
his face smooth; his voice guttural
and his love wouls be true.
little corner of despair, and
runs his hands through his smooth
black hair. With a gutteral
cough he thinks of love,
a love that is true.
He ponders the truth.
He is miserable and dark
in his mind. No one could ever love
him. He scowls and
throws something at the cat gutterally
yelping outside. The tears ran smoothly.
The floor was smooth
as he walked about. True,
another sharp pain in his gut,
he was dark,
and brooding and
depressed. He only needed someone to love.
Yes, he needed love
that would surpass all. He thought of smooth
milky skin and tawny hair. She was a true
beauty, and his soul was terribly dark.
He contemplated telling her, but that would be too gutsy.
He was not a gutsy
person. He loved
to stand away, in a dark
corner. To hide away smoothly
and not be seen. That was true,
he thought to himself, and
he laughed, and
he moaned with gutteral
pain. This was truly
sad, to strive for love.
To touch her smooth
pale skin. The room was dark.
His epressions were dark and
his face smooth; his voice guttural
and his love wouls be true.
