deep inside my wasted body is a cold, barren land filled with the silhouetted trees of my past.
they are dying.
just.
like.
me.
YOU ARE READING
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 ᵖᵒᵉᵗʳʸ
Poetry𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙣 ☆ ☆ ☆ a poetry prose collection of sadness, longing and broken love. ☆ ☆ ☆ "𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞" - 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫, 𝐞𝐧𝐝...
winter - two
deep inside my wasted body is a cold, barren land filled with the silhouetted trees of my past.
they are dying.
just.
like.
me.
