I feel the beat
the infectious rhythm
spreading poison,
nightshade poison
through my bones,
as if
killing me
without regret
YOU ARE READING
Naive
PoésieWORDS WERE THE LIFEBLOOD OF POETRY, AND I REMAINED SILENT. A collection of poetry. For the people who don't feel at home in their own skin, for the poets, for the people who are depressed, for the people who aren't depressed, for the people with wo...
