Tales,
Lies,
And subtle cries,
Tis the season,
For our hearts to die,
Echoes running,
Through our souls,
Haunted by,
Our faceless ghouls,
Screaming,
Running,
Let loose the tears,
Out come,
Our deepest fears,
For life is a battle,
Few will win,
Don't dig the hole,
You'll be buried in.
YOU ARE READING
Wither
PoetryFrustration, Anger, Pain, And sadness, We're all dying from the m a d n e s s . -Our Generation, Wither --- This is my voice to the world.
