Some nights are pitch black, not in reality but in my imagination. I am numb but just the same I ache. I ache for the feelings that I can rarely find anymore. For the joy I used to find in everything. There is no cause but myself. I thought I had mended. that I had healed but I guess I still have deep wounds
YOU ARE READING
Short stories and poems
PuisiI write little things here and there and thought people should be able to read it
