My sadness has turned me pale and lanky.
It has fed on my bone marrow and has left me empty.
It was taken my voice and the strength in my arms.
It has made my legs tired and my heart weak.
It has left me a bad poet with no will to live.
It has made me want to die.
YOU ARE READING
Bleeding Hearts
Poetry"You either get it down on paper or jump off a bridge." - Charles Bukowski Just snippets of stories I can't seem to get out of my head. All cover credit goes to the wonderful @mydearcc
