Have you ever felt the cold night move over you like fog
Like lace covered in unholy smog
You’re not the boy at all I thought
You’re not the hope that I had sought
The Great Expansion
The Great Divide
The Great Unearthing
All I despise
From written word to analog
Or being threatened to back off
Then having no dialogue
I guess I’ve been miscataloged
© Delia Ross. 2021 / @poeeternal
I hate when people misplace me. How dare they. Pff.
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