My poems going nowhere
My poems are messier than my life
How messy can I get?
My heart only wants my son, my love, my everything near me. What's so bad about wanting ?
Explain me something, tell me whether I've broken down , tell me if that diety , that great diety if it's not dead.
Gah, help me breathe again.
YOU ARE READING
Breathe Me In
PoetryMy whole life in poetry. In few words: It's a bomb, it's a wish, it's me
