this road i have been on before
a million times not long ago
same face, everyday
oh i wish it would change.
heavy emptiness lies on my chest
every glance I steal in delay
my expectation betrayed by the glass
oh, i wish it would break.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry-The Unspoken Words
PoetryNothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red ~Kait Rokowski
