Made of Clay
I am not a wild horse. I am merely
A docile diversion with creamy skin
And milky breasts and an empty head
I ask no questions; I make no demands
I am wet clay clinging to the potter's wheel
Ready to be moulded by your hands.
A docile diversion with creamy skin
And milky breasts and an empty head
I ask no questions; I make no demands
I am wet clay clinging to the potter's wheel
Ready to be moulded by your hands.
posted by Louise at 4:05 am
2 Comments:
Greets to the webmaster of this wonderful site. Keep working. Thank you.
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Interesting site. Useful information. Bookmarked.
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