avoidance

RSS

By andrew

Waking before the light of day, I listen to what highers might have to say. Laying in this tent of mine, underneath my sleeping bag which is sublime. My rifle laying by my side, this is my refuge, the tent is my only place to hide.

This poem has no votes yet.

To vote, you must be logged in.

To leave comments, you must be logged in.

No comments yet.