2:14PM
Sorry, I almost forgot to write with you.
But, this is just a small piece of letter to you. I just want to tell you that, I made a poem this Saturday morning in the hospital I went from.
As I look at the wilted Roses from the beside table, while I'm watching myself numb in the bed. I feel like I'm already dead but still alive.
Roses are dead,
Violets are crying.
I went from the hospital,
they're telling me I'm dying.
-a.c
YOU ARE READING
Clouded Thoughts.
PoetryThis is pure beauty, it is making my heart flutter inside like a trapped butterfly trying to escape it's dark cage... This is my journal for 30 days only. I write, so as to not be dead.
