The lethal inability to transform
These thoughts into words
Leaving them to rot inside me
Forever left unheard
An unweeded garden of sentiments
Unaddressed emotions become my penitence
There's nothing for me to do except repent.
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
