Going home to be alone,
Don't know If I'll explain anymore,
I'm sick of gathering up a crowd.
My darkest hour dreads me deep,
So tired it's so hard to sleep
Forget about the ones who creep,
It seems there's nothing I care to keep.
It strums tune that makes me weary,
For too long I've acted too dreary
I don't want anything,
And I don't want to break out.
YOU ARE READING
Zenith - A Book Of Poetry
PoetryA book of devoid poems. There isn't much to explain, or describe. I wrote My Dark Friend- A Book of Poems which I had to end do to my issue of writing too much, so this is kind of part 2.
