selfish people don't kill themselves
self pride is to deep
only the beautiful ones, come to die
so don't you dare pick up your stone's
and say they were weak
they were committed to love
and unto her does their blood bleed
YOU ARE READING
Ouidas' Rose
Poetrya collection of rambles, of shattered letters, of quiet musings and heart throbs that feel like drum drops someone grab my teddy bear so I no longer feel the darkness
