Unfiltered Spam
Not, Not a nasceant napalm
ruffles the roots
ever so slightly
With weathered feathers
She grimaces very very quietly.
Right now
Appearances are all that matter
Turbulence inside closed barks
screaming into a plywood pillow
hurricane hovers around the whomping willow.
She survived
a heightened high school war
the evil nature's call
Will she will continue to stand tall
after every fucking fall?
