He had keys for doors that no longer existed and kept them anyway, sorted by the year the building came down. On Sundays he laid them out on the…
What the Locksmith Knew — Klára S.
11 comments
Klára S. · 11 comments
Trying to write this damn poem But words get in way Keeps sounding so dumb And what am I trying to say Some, any material- can’t find none I guess…
A short poem about being unable to write a poem — Mirkary
2 comments
Mirkary · 2 comments