The craving...Is getting worse.
The darker days, and endless nights.
Hold him in chains.
The smaug...scrambling his brain.
Leaving him in a camouflage
Knitted by pain.
The silver sinks deep within
Dripping into his veins.
Infecting what's left
Of self control.
He grabs the knife
And cuts his soul.
YOU ARE READING
Loud Pøetry Spilled From The Quiet Soul
PoetryAll of these are mine. Not the Internet. Trigger warning. (Self mutilation, depression, anorexia, etc....) And my apologies if they aren't even slow to Bukowski or Anything....I just wanted to try
