the silence,
the sound of rain,
the music playing in the background.
the breeze,
the warmth,
the coldness of the ground.
the light,
the curtains
that dims the brightness of the sun
the night comes,
i think of you,
now all the good things are gone.
YOU ARE READING
12 am » poetry
Poetryit's 12 am and i'm wide awake --- just a short disclaimer from the author in 2021, please do note that this was written by a 15 year old.
