Call me gypsy, it's how I've felt all along.
Don't show affection, sympathy looks more like it's pity.
My disappearance won't affect them, but god do I wish if I were wrong.
She told me: "don't worry, you'll be pretty."
But my aching soul seems to disagree with her.
YOU ARE READING
Breathers.
PoetryThese are just some of my random thoughts and you can also say that it's a collection for my other works, I hope that you find them enjoyable♡
