If this was music it would the Penguin's First Single, my first poem, ever.
The nightmare haunts my heavenly dreams, A constant torment, a driving hate, Pursuing with love a superficial beauty. She stands there, flowing garments of rage Sweetly breeze through with splendorous ignorance. The spirits, the apparitions, held in my faltering hands Of wretched nervousness, slowly... Sign in to see full entry.