Many a penny lost to the woes of love.
Many a hope raised upon the wings of a dove.
Trickle trickle
Flow through needle
Blood that flows from vein to pack,
blood that one never seems to lack.
Some fear the stench of death
Others fear the face of wrath.
And some they fear not able to
distinguish right from left.
This is what happens when you have a caffeine mood swing in the night.
Jumbled trains of thoughts
criss-crossing each other.
