What do you think he wears under that robe?
Your prompt is DEATH.
Hand in hand with Death
Walking down the moonlit beach
With cold mojitos
I love a guy with a big blade.
What do you think he wears under that robe?
Your prompt is DEATH.
Hand in hand with Death
Walking down the moonlit beach
With cold mojitos
I love a guy with a big blade.
Whether it’s borne on
A whisper, a shriek, a roar,
It ends in silence.
Death’s a foxy gal,
Rockin’ a clingy black dress.
Damn girl, dat scythe though.