Whenever I open my mouth I'm told to shut it.
Every time I talk I tell the truth.
When I don't it's because I know the outcome.
No one can handle the truth.
Not even myself.
When the truth is told a part of you dies inside.
The flowers in your heart start to wilt.
Your heart will start to turn into coal.
Because you can't handle the truth.
It's not fair.
YOU ARE READING
Sneak Peek
PoetryI basically just write these when I get sad, and I'm tired of them just sitting in my notes where they're worthless. So enjoy. Not really they're kinda sad.
