poetry i made
The day our fences burn for good, a palooza of parties will arise from the ground and a honey-scented hope will leap up with dreams, asking if today was the day we will stop. I know we’ll rebuild the fence post and burn it again. Not because we enjoy the scorch, but because it’ll prove that we’ll always have that heated tension of hatred between us.
not good but oh well
want more?
no
duh

















