Poetry Crosstitch

[Wildcard]

better men have tried
and tried
and true
believers hope
burns like a candle
in the wind
beneath my wings
I like spicy
isn't always better
homes and gardens
full of dead flowers
killed with a quill
in hand
some array the army
of one
against many
legged slimy things
will never be the same
time next year
in history
repeats itself