The rotting flashbacks were washing all over me ,
By sweats.
White crumbled and torn papers are scattered in my room ,
Were desperate to know what came over me.
I want to run away ,
From the people I hate ,
From the people I've loved , but can't keep up to them.
The veins in my head screams ,
For the rage runs in it.
I feel like my whole skin is burnt ,
My whole body is torn apart ,
Yet my tears find it's way out.
Breathless days have been past.
YOU ARE READING
Gravestones of survival.
Poetry~People often misunderstand my gravestones of survivals into piece of art.~ Random pieces of poetry.
