March will come and the wounds will not bleed.
They will ache and bruise.
But you are rather tenacious.
You will go on walks and smell the flowers.
Take pictures of trees and dance to love songs.
It will rain and you will let it fall through your hair.
And the ache and pain will become dull and secondminded.
You will laugh and love like it is your lifeline.
And the march showers will become april flowers. <3
YOU ARE READING
ballads of heartbreak
Poetry"I'm sorry that I'm like this, I'm trying my best" -essentially a diary, slight tw for being self destructive & harmful, some really good stuff crammed in with a bunch of nonsensical three am cry sessions
