boil

Learn more about other poetry terms

Winter…. Is awful I spend five months (give or take) a year Every year suffering In the cold And the wind And the frigid expanse of dim lighting And depressed employees All for what?
Unshed tears, anger, frustration, Boil and bubble inside.  I fear an eruption- The unforseen and sudden spilling of my insides, Spewing forth some regrettable tradgedy, And the onset of these,
Subscribe to boil