You scribble midnight,
edit words early morning
like it'll win trophies.
Later you curl up and lay around my
arms.
There's loony battle inside your mind searching words for naming your unmade poetries, murmurings hymns
you noticed
your hand was on my neck
choking me to death.
YOU ARE READING
Messed Thoughts (Poetry)
PoesíaRanking #4 (25.08.2020) #9 (10.03.2021) Poetry collection from messed mind, feelings and a random thoughts that keeps you day dreaming at 2 pm and keep you awake at 2 am.
