What-
The fuck-
Am I doing?
These thoughts-
Should really..
Just stay-
In my head.
Where they can't..
Hurt anybody-
But me.
And yet-
I'm writing.
Still.
YOU ARE READING
The Words of a Person
PoetryMy words. Typed. As if- They could ever be called- Neat. *WARNING* Life is fucked up- So I guess I am too.
