How fucking could you.
How could you sit there and watch me drown.
How fucking could you sit there and throw more rocks into my arms just to see how hard I would try to stay afloat.
As I learned how to breathe under water, I was plotting your demise.
Drown in your sorrow, it's the only thing you have left.
YOU ARE READING
•Mind on Paper•
PoesiaThis is going to be a collection of late night thoughts and spurs of inspiration for your viewing pleasure. Some of these could be happy, sad, melancholic, and much more. My brain is the brush, the paper, or in this case the screen is my canvas. I...
