And all of the odds, it's the cry of midnight
Grey clouds and hazed sky.
Moment of silence, loud.
Wailing of sky, washed land. The heart matches the clouds, they have the same of grey.
One cries water, the other melancholy; thick blood is a pretentious lie,
To,
Sweeten sadness.
YOU ARE READING
Please,me.
PoetryInsane to my sanity. Whiffs of pleasure and being purposely named the same.Run and cry,cry and run. Live around this world,life will chase you down.
