An assignment in poetry class.

**The format isn't any particular format. I make art with the way I space lines in poems. ><**

The one with the falling face
Resorts to his volumes.
He loaths this internal plague.
He grows too pusillanimous to commit to anything else.
Murder in a non-literal sense is an understatement in comparison to what he has done to another.
The smell of paper,
The aroma of the clothes left behind
Furtively consume him.
The intoxicating state in which he was shoved into is unfathomable.
Any other parties, feel free to be a critic.
He wishes to fight for that, to fight against that.
But one must choose their battles.