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I miss those times,
When anxiety wasn't introduced.
When expectations didn't bother
These days I am victim accused,
And I accepted it without a stutter
I committed a crime,
That night, I killed my inner child.
Masked my ferocious act of wild.
Child was too pure for this torture,
Whatever I did, was good for her.
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YOU ARE READING
My Melancholy (Poem)
PoetryMelancholy is strong, but my art is stronger. 🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿 ~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~• Melancholy in my tears, as they flew through years, Melancholy in my veins, Playing hurtful games. 🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿 ~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•...
