Poems from MARs
There is ink on my thumb, or in it, I should say.For it seeps into my blood veins,and drives my fears away.
if someone tells you that you are not beautiful,
you need not believe it, for the mirror
has not cracked, my dear,
and that's the way
I...
I've noticed that people,
who are rather
like trees,
can
change as
quickly as the
color of leaves.
Putting on Infinity's airs, I dance the waltz with Eternity.
Saying I have time to spare, I embrace this opportunity.
we spin and twirl,...