Black, Like My InkA Poem by Désiré Desrosiers The true nature of humans as a species. We're quite deceiving, are we not? Humans. gentle kind forgiving That is the outside, but the inside is polar. cruel harsh rejecting the true colors of humans are not white, like a pure silky cloth. Rather it is black, like my ink. © 2016 Désiré Desrosiers
Author's Note
|
Author
Désiré DesrosiersBerkeley, CAAboutDésiré Desrosiers is my pseudonym. Just an amateur writing broken sentences. I write my thoughts mostly in free-verse poetry. Perhaps I shall publish some short stories... more..Writing
|
|
|
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Subscribe
Flag Writing
