Write it out
And write it loud
Senseless tragedy
Crying melodies
What has become of me?
The reflection isn't me
Not any me that I can bare to see
Or any version that I long to be
Waves of darkened chaos
In the land of the lost
Proving to be the cost
Of fragile love.
YOU ARE READING
Idiosyncrasies of an Introvert
Poetry{COMPLETE} Poetry from the ill mind ❝Her heart is played like well worn strings In her eyes the sadness sings Of one who was destined for better things.❞ © Lang Leav
