Digital drawing · poetry

Pw3t!e.b3.ea.3

Here is a feather,

tie on a leather.

My shoe will fly into a weather,

that can run into and out of a maelstrom,

only one can seem to fall into a slur of slumber.

Waking up upon a lovely stupor,

then only when I hear someone laughed

to hell and back.

Dreaming of you was meant of my heaven.

🎭🆙🆕🆒📴🎭

©oam

®artsydhude 7-18

™XENOphagz

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