They tear up in salt, I, in ink.
They brighten up in smiles, I, in pages.
They melt up in hearts, I, in words.
They live in the world, I, in your thoughts.
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YOU ARE READING
Final Throes Of The Unfurling
Poetry"I strived to rise but every rise has a fall, I quit, I quit and that's all." Just a bunch of emotions sucked by the pen and bled on the pages. Can be seen in the dried marks on the pillow, Dark hollows of rapidly blinking eyes, And the corners of...
