winter
inside, there lies an emptiness,
a void that echoes with loneliness.
like a barren desert, devoid of life,
it cuts through the core like a silent knife.
I wanna talk to somebody about my deepest thoughts,
but now, its only me in this dark, quite nothing.
YOU ARE READING
4 seasons of me
PoetryOthers write only the good, others only the bad...this is the place for those who felt both. Who loved and hated. A Journey, through a year of my Life. Winter (lonely). Spring (finding). Summer (love). Fall (losing). One year. Four seasons. One...
