We weep for the dead, but don't celebrate the living
We weep after a suicide, but don't notice them dying
So obviously life is only precious when it's gone
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//
Obviously
We weep for the dead, but don't celebrate the living
We weep after a suicide, but don't notice them dying
So obviously life is only precious when it's gone