my condolences
to my self,
whose passion,
fiery passion,
finally burnt out,
you did well,
but there was nothing i could do
to save you
from the pits of misery,
and frustrated fits of anger
just to do something
i used to love,
i couldn't save you,
and no amount of rest
could ever bring you back,
may you finally have
the peace you always wanted
YOU ARE READING
letters after dark | poetry book 3
Poetry[ poetry and prose book 3 ] a collection of poems and proses of thoughts that fill up the void after dark. #7 in poetry #1 in proses #56 in poem #5 poetrycollection started: june 2023 ended: ----- status: on-going
