I hung on them with hope to save my faith. Captivating the empty handed. Fingers burnt like the flame in my spirit.
I was a naïve echo in the empty rooms. Soon I felt them cut. My sound is lost. They played me like a set of strings.
YOU ARE READING
Infinity
PoetryA dazzling view of words. Multiple perspectives of life and my deepest thoughts and feelings. I write to relieve it all. Thanks for reading! ~Highest rank: #102 in poetry~
