that's what we do
we drown them out—
the voices:
of demons,
of loved ones,
of everything that
creates sound
because we're too tired
to recognize
where the noise is
really coming from
— drowning in silence
YOU ARE READING
moonlit wounds and words (you are celestial #1)
Poetrywhen the blazing sun sets and i'm alone with my mind, when the stars start to shine and the wounds ache with rhymes, a pen in one hand the other clutching my heart, this is how the tears evolve, the way i bleed, and the pain dissolves a collection o...
