Home - Poem by dong123321 4931
Smell like old flesh.
Even flys won't get near.
Covered with green mold.
When you sleep that's your nightmare.
Never cleaned before looks like thousand of roaches clawing on it.
The room smell like dead fish under burning sun.
Taste like liquid dripping from garbage.
Rat would want to eat food from the shove.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You