So the next two-three poems are from a previous collection I'd posted before, back when I was at the stupid age of thirteen last year.
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Wet eyes,
Sad hearts,
White lies,
Deep marks.
'Nother dead,
'Nother gone,
Seen red,
For too long.
Pick the pieces,
Run away,
Leave the traces,
For another day.
Sad minds,
Wide cuts,
A smile to find,
No guts.
Join them in,
Another grave,
Faded sins,
Been too brave.
Fight your fears,
Choose a way,
Leave the tears,
For another day.
YOU ARE READING
Hiraeth
PoesieHIRAETH- (n.) A homesickness for a place you can never return to, a place which never was. Previously: Songs Of My Lonely Soul. *** A Song Of My Lonely Soul. A Ballad Of My Heart Whole. A Story That Was Never Said. When We Find It To Be Dead. ...
