I'll go back to the hollet, I swear.
Monsters
don't hide
from their reflections.
Falling
leaves foresee
the coming frost.
Crisp
wind can
cut once honed.
Sweet
treats stick
to my teeth.
Masks
give new
faces, identities, personas.
(Prompt by me)
Photo source
Monsters
don't hide
from their reflections.
Falling
leaves foresee
the coming frost.
Crisp
wind can
cut once honed.
Sweet
treats stick
to my teeth.
Masks
give new
faces, identities, personas.
(Prompt by me)
Photo source
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