my heart lives in a constant so-so state,
taped onto my chest and trying to survive.
and if we do not speak of this
blood-soaked night
then what good is it to us
for everything to be left behind?
(101% do not remember writing this. probably because I always write at 4 in the morning and I don't read it till the day after so like enjoy this random-ass poem goodbye)
YOU ARE READING
Wanderers
Poetry" She was written poetry While He was just a draft Combined together They couldn't have made art For one didn't rhyme with the other And sadly Both weren't in sync together. " (This is the first official book I've posted on wattpad and intended to k...
