When I look up at the sky with wintery eyes,
I think of all I've said, and the relatable lies,
I think of maybe everyone I have made cry,
And realized too late that I've lost all my lights,
It wasn't too late to have said,
That maybe I'd have been better with them,
But even I'm tired of my fake cries,
Even I'm tired of my dark lines.
YOU ARE READING
A Butterfly Afterlife✧
PoetryPoetry Book Four ♡ Trigger Warning: Light Themes: Love, Romance etc.. Dark Themes: Depression, Horror etc...
