He felt his heart ripping at the sound of his cries,
Bleeding out all the lies that he's ever spoke through his eyes trailing down his face that has been cracked open so many times,
Can he get through one more night? Can he tell the one he loves one more goodnight?
I guess we shall find out by sunrise,
To see if he's fallen down and learned to fly.
YOU ARE READING
Loud Pøetry Spilled From The Quiet Soul
PoetryAll of these are mine. Not the Internet. Trigger warning. (Self mutilation, depression, anorexia, etc....) And my apologies if they aren't even slow to Bukowski or Anything....I just wanted to try
