You can barely keep
your eyes open -
yet it's so dark,
isn't it?
You wilt like a flower
with no sun
or water,
slowly decaying.
Where did all
your colour go?
You bled it all out,
didn't you?
Your crippled petals fall
and so do you.
It's not too late,
my love.
You can bury yourself
and grow
all over again.
growing pains
YOU ARE READING
Titles are Overrated
PoetryThis is the equivalent of Notes app on your phone, so yeah, exposing myself. I guess it's considered poetry. Enjoy. :)
