My hands are shaking
My heart is dead
My head is pulsing
My ears went deaf.
Little tears of pain
Visiting my eyes again
Bullets hitting
My chest, past feelings.
YOU ARE READING
mortem
PoetryIf it wouldn't be enough I'd feel pages with my tears, burn desires with my flames and tear all apart with no regrets.
18
My hands are shaking
My heart is dead
My head is pulsing
My ears went deaf.
Little tears of pain
Visiting my eyes again
Bullets hitting
My chest, past feelings.
