The joy, and the love
The bond, and the rage
Rewinding the videos every night
The house was full when I arrived
I sat on a table with no reservations
I get to talk but they don't get to talk
An unlocked door I glanced
I had a choice, so I chose one thing
Slashed every vine
Slashed every curse
I ran without looking back
YOU ARE READING
the archives from batch no. 823
Poetrya collection of unsaid thoughts, archived in my mind and now written in words.
