July 1, 2013 by William Leed
our little drop of blood
cast upon by the eye
but out of reach of cleansing.
Posted in Poetry | Tagged blood, cast, cleansing, drop, eye, little, poem, poetry, reach, regret, talking leaves, william leed | 2 Comments
one of the best from you..
Regret.. sometimes it just attaches itself to our psyche
and we are nothing but helpless
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