That Machiavellian casualness, that tragic joy it would be my security and my misery.
Misery
My misery loves company.
Shadow
His soul, it was a shadow of his misery.
Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
That Machiavellian casualness, that tragic joy it would be my security and my misery.
My misery loves company.
His soul, it was a shadow of his misery.