i'm surrounded by good people
but they don't know how I think
they say we're all friends
but i'm grey while they're pink
they all have good lives
they have happiness and fun
all i've got is anxiety
and in my hand, a gun.
YOU ARE READING
A Little Thing Called Death
Poesíai won't explain many of these. they are for you to work out and they'll probably mean something different to everyone. (i own these poems) ((FINISHED.))
