Torn pages from the book flew around the room,
Crumpled papers stick on the floor and the camera's left on zoom.
Paint splattered everywhere on the floor,
Though messy, grey is the only color.
Raindrops keep falling down the window,
Collections are far from their own row.
She could only stare,
Act as if she's not even there.
A flower bloomed in her mouth, tears streamed down,
They're never bound.
Um.. Have you heard of the Hanahaki disease or smthn? It happens when there's unrequited love, I think. Smthn smthn it's interesting so I thought I'd make something out of it.
This doesn't make sense. At all.
YOU ARE READING
Nightingale (A Poetry Collection)
Poetry:a small brown European bird that sings a beautiful song especially at night. Just some random poems I had in mind... I usually thought of this around nighttime hence the title XD Btw, all of this doesn't make sense ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌ This book is dark, please...
