i sit in my room
awaiting my doom,
my death,
or my last breath
but nothing came
and nothing left
no matter how hard i cry
and how broken i feel
i try and i try and i try so hard
but it's all still real
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//
