inkA Poem by Cassidy MaskBlue-black skin Fingers slippery wet With ink. I press Hands to paper Warm breath On my knuckles As I watch the Ink bleed Across the paper. Blue-black skin.
Smudges that tell you Exactly how I Waste my days. © 2011 Cassidy Mask |
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1 Review Added on May 20, 2011 Last Updated on May 20, 2011 AuthorCassidy MaskSingaporeAboutI'm at art college in Singapore. "...I never heard them laugh. They had, Instead, this tic of scratching quotes in air - like frightened mimes inside their box of style, that first class carriag.. more.. |

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