My fingers tremble as the ashes of dreams long burnt fall through my fingers, echoes of dead memories dance across deadened neurons in the husk that this stained soul dwells within, no tears, no anger, a pale imitation of thee steals thine carcass, smile and grin you tell yourself in the dark of thine mind, it's fine see, no scars you lie between your teeth as you bandage thine soul, it's okay you echo into the hollow confines of thine torment. All fine.
YOU ARE READING
Dark poetry
PoetryI started writing poetry a few months ago, and ever since have wanted to publish them for anyone to read. I do not stick to any specific genre of poetry, and often times I write in my own style, As I have found that writing traditional poetry never...
