Lost Child.
I'm a wrist with flesh cuts,
an illness with altered perceptions.
I walk alive
in a world
which doesn't
feel alive to me.
And I know
you may not
know who I am,
but don't ask me.
For all I know is that
I'm a child with
broken dollies
and lost identities.
-who are we?
A question
always asked,
never answered.
H I R A Y A.
A/N: GOOD NEWS TO EVERYONE, IDK HOW TO SAY THIS BUT THIS BOOK WAS NOMINATED TO THE WATTYS LONGLIST! UNBELIEVABLE.
Confession #one: I'll be eighteen in few months and I can't wait till I get my driving license. P.S. I'm a terrible driver. UPDATE: TURNS OUT I'LL NEVER GET A LICENSE LOL.
YOU ARE READING
1:11
PoetryBetween sunsets and sunrises are a bunch of poems that may mean nothing or may mean everything. Between sunsets and sunrises I am not afraid of the dark, I am fond of it. Part II of The Zeros. Made it to the wattys shortlist!
