This is my fifth draft
of a poem
that I'll never write.
I could scribble down my sadness
with marks on my skin,
but it's not worth it, is it?
Nothing's worth it.
Nothing at all.
YOU ARE READING
scribbles and drabbles
Poetrya collection of drabbles, mostly one-line thoughts. a plentitude of emotions and hue poetry. many of these are tweets from my illhueminati twitter c: (c) mockingjayde 2013-2014
