Everything is cold, cold and dark.
Cold and covered in shadows.
Turn me into a distant memory.
A forgotten dream.
A figment of your imagination.
Anything but real.
I don't feel real, yet that's what I am.
Break the porcelain that's my heart, throw it at the floor and watch it smash into pathetic little pieces.
Smash those pieces into dust.
Burn that dust, watch it turn to ashes.
Put those ashes in a bottle and throw that bottle away.
Far, far away.
Then I could finally get what I desire.
Then I could finally disappear.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PuisiJust little segments of writing that I've written to vent I guess, my friends call them poems but I'm unsure of what they are to be honest. Just a warning some of the content written in here may cover some triggering topics, so if you are easily tri...
