In this dark room
Where words cannot bloom
And an endless thoughts
Of endless sorrows
So much pain for someone
So young
Different guns
But same cause
What a ruthless world
Full of dying souls
Love can't be pure
So do trust that cannot pour
YOU ARE READING
Echoes Of The Dead Poets
Poetry"Dark inks on dark secrets, full of wonders and ends, thoughts of the night of murky life." ©cover not mine