at night,
whilst everyone talks to
a fake, happy me.
I showed you
how I truly am
sometimes.
at night,
my skin crawls
and voices whisper deep,
pale, luminating skin
begging for something
I couldn't do.
yet, at night,
when I said what was on my mind
you urged and insisted
that despite this illness
I was still perfect.
you make the fighting worth it.
-e.w.
YOU ARE READING
Sad Poems
Poesiamade this because I like sad things. Book one and two are on my profile if you'd like to read them as well + they are shit, k? appreciate you reading, voting, or commenting. «LOWERCASE INTENDED» (a.f. is me, if you're wondering. private message me...
