The cold. It pierces my skin but it's not enough. The heat of hate and anger continues to rise. Colder. The water beats down on my back, but am I cold enough yet? Has the heat of anger and hate lessened at all? The powerful hatred seems to continue filling my bones. Hatred of myself. Hate towards the world. I turn the water colder still.
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A Few Failed Feelings
PoetryJust a bunch of random poems that I sometimes think up. No regular updates. If I think of something that sounds somewhat poetic I'll add to it I guess, but I most likely will not be adding to it weekly and possibly not even monthly. (Slight trigger...
