Too little to too much
It's a fine line I tread like a drunk
Every night on a railway track
Too much talk seems too unimportant
Too less makes too scared
Then I lash out to defend
My stupidity under name of destiny
Unfortunate, but inexcusable
I cry until I attain stupor
Did I fuck up one too many times?
Did I make you lose your mind?
Did I mention it was unintentional?
Cause I don't understand
The fine line
Of ghosting and gracefully ignoring
I tread it like a dunk on railway tracks
Tracks of tears rolling out
Till salt comes out no more
YOU ARE READING
ink stains on my fingers
PoetryI wanted to make something like this from a long time now, so I suppose this is a notes app equivalent of my phone. Nothing personal to be found, just random things typed at random times from midnight to 3 'o' clock and in between boring classes und...
