It's quite questionably quiet.
She doesn't say a word.
Not a whisper.
Her sickle of silence seems
To rip my heart to shreds.
Am I dead?
She's not doing anything.
She obviously doesn't care.
She so, so obviously
Doesn't care.
She doesn't care how crazy
She makes me daily.
It makes me dazedly
Not care about how lazy
I am lately.
Drowning in a silent sea,
Silence engulfing me,
I go to sleep.
She still doesn't make a peep.
YOU ARE READING
The Chronicles of My Addiction
PoetryA collection of poetry I wrote when I was addicted to the sadness that a love brought upon me.
