roy
2011-05-29 18:40:41 UTC
Ply not flesh sole, yore treat soils plenty
And sift hundredth bodes, ane thus froth
O’ Eden trees unto roots hath, ane thus amplify
And abreast thy sidle, as whom vanilla froth
Bereft hundredth souls, not dead but amplified
Athwart thy, betwixt youth and writhe unto rye
Ane thus hundredth tree amidst yore tree roots
And cosset art selves as lofty men, midst froth
Nay o’ flute sidle, and knightly scorns aloft his billow
Dance with delight as whom vanilla froth’ sow width
Intrigue plains stride and lesser midst-summer grain
And bereft hundredth roots sidle abreast thin leaf ‘sty
O’ moon gape, and shimmers O’ Eden trees merge as knights
Entwine like vines’ ane thus slumber till spring burrows
And hundredth souls, recite the cherry blossoms like trees
And tasted like vanilla froth, and breathe like souls
Not dead but amplified like knights, Ane thus lofty men
Ane, Ate From The O’ Eden Tree
"Thus Lord pursues our talents, thus perfect line's art often "human"
"Time is new, So i've copied writted these words. Do i have what it take's to become a famouse writer, oh i'm 19- been writing since 17