Sorrow slips into your heart through a pinhole.
It burns, but yet it's cold.
There is comfort in the feeling
Of pain
While you debate
Half empty or half full
You loose track of time
It slowly rises.
Time is running out.
Your love is going to drown.
YOU ARE READING
Margot's poems...
PoetryUm, I write poems. Haha. I don't know if they are all that good, but I thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to share some of them with other writers or readers out there. So here it is...
