They're all used
To never knowing
About my want for a noose
They see my dollface
My fake face
My attitude: "Must pretend
Until the end"
Stuck with the same smile
while these thoughts
are so very vile
YOU ARE READING
Whispers of the Wounded
Poetry//Poetry written by the pained// I keep thinking That if I keep whispering These terrible thoughts to this wind Maybe I'd see the meaning in something again //Cover by the amazing @anixkuh//
