Drops. Delicate Raindrops.
Each one that falls is another tear lost
As our minds wind up into knots,
My cheeks now invisibly stained
With my disdain... for myself,
I collect each drop in my glass bottle
Filling it up until out it topples
Then I drink.
Again and again until all regret is gone,
Until those tears and fears are buried deep Within my human soul.
YOU ARE READING
"within my human soul" - Poetry Collection
Poetryfor everyone who knows something is wrong with them and often cry for no reason.
