the final stage of grief where i could breathe without being haunted by you and your words,
the final letters that i would write just to my bail my feelings out for you,
the final lullabies that i would sing just to defeat these nemesis just because i can't track your presence.
i'm finally at the final stage where my soul begin to familiarize with the gods of acceptance.
but i learned that these people will only want to know you, just to cage you.
but i freed my mind from the hands of him where i died dead every single countdowns,
but that story has already been changed.
YOU ARE READING
Desperate Nightmares, Old Habits Die: Prose and Poetry
Poetryi live in a poetic life but dying from your poisonous lies. we live in vain, so we drink until we get drunk in our own mistakes and sins. but still making out with the devils, but in the back of my mind, i'm with you - haunting me stunningly.
