Mother’s tea kettle sings to an empty house. My sisters abandon her, because we are young, and act grown. Keep the water in your mouth. It’ll go down easier if you hold your nose.

No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story. No Kings.
Mother’s tea kettle sings to an empty house. My sisters abandon her, because we are young, and act grown. Keep the water in your mouth. It’ll go down easier if you hold your nose.