A Poet by the Louvre.


My Hands

These hands
are,
barely enough to,
Grace all the lands,
this heart, desires
too, big for
this, apple tart
For my,
mouth is,
so small yet too,
big, my appetite
For life, is just
too big,
I could just
curl up into a,
fall until I,
trust all,
But I
am but a girl,
too small
In this world,
I fall,
Will do. 




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