drip
sweat drips towards
the heart
building wells
for drowning
shallow
not the mind
the breath is
wheezing through
lungs
plummeting the wings
of a butterfly
it's hot
hell is hot
YOU ARE READING
When angels fall
PoetryA book of thoughts, pains and joys, served cold. No sugar to sweeten it up. i'm but a throbbing cluster of pain waiting longing to be released into nothingness
