Dedicated to Aestrophilia
We are two of a kind
Fire and Ice
destined to hate
One to break
One to consume
in this bloodthirsty game
we call fate
One won
but why did we fight?
we were chess pawns
One never knew it
One was bound to it
Both were broken
Never to be wound up again
We were toy soldiers
broken and never
used again
YOU ARE READING
Naive
PoetryWORDS WERE THE LIFEBLOOD OF POETRY, AND I REMAINED SILENT. A collection of poetry. For the people who don't feel at home in their own skin, for the poets, for the people who are depressed, for the people who aren't depressed, for the people with wo...
