Refined,
Reserved, and regretted
Remember the danger
The struggles and fears
Laces and places
Are all that remain
We no longer have the memories
They are missing from our brains
But we do still feel the past
And it shall ever last.
In the minds of the children
Until their hearts grow old.
For it is the youth that keeps history bold.
YOU ARE READING
Lambs to the Slaughter...
PoetryI like writing poetry so this is going to be a book simply of my poems. these will be mostly dark but I will try to have some happy or at least slightly bearable poems as well. dark writing is kinda thing so its ok if its not you kinda thing.
