Yea, The Silly Pier Yesterday Quenchs The Star
Where Are You Climbing From?
All Torchlights See Weak, Indignant Metals
And Fog In Your Penguin
And Artistry Fills The Depression
To The Cry That It Once Held
Melt As The Horses Burn Again To A Desire Of Manners Or Blackness


Generate another brilliant :) poem