The worst things that could happen, happening at his fingertips.
This pain will leave no lesson. This pain will only scar.
But put your palms together, and look up to the sky.
Pray that there's a reason we go through hell before we die.
You have the moral authority, but are not moral in the slightest.
Are his pleas for rain, hoarse and weak from drought, not loud enough?
YOU ARE READING
Poems probably
Poetrythe later parts are a lot better than the first ones in my opinion poems and random stuff i want to put on here
