I built a muse to craft my blues,
Filled up and gilt with craven views--
Some mewling trick to fill the space:
Spending intellect to steal a face,
And mask a casket made of air--
Who ventures out to see, or trace,
On the still-indentured, human face,
A match unmasked, or my despair.
© Copyright 2016 Tom H Hart. All rights reserved.
Paste the link to picture in the entry below:
Paste the link to Youtube video in the following entry:
Cannot annotate a non-flat selection. Make sure your selection starts and ends within the same node.
An annotation cannot contain another annotation.
There was an error uploading your file.