We're insane,
mad,
and maybe we are,
mad, crazy, even insane,
a million words for the same thing.
But we,
WE
are poets,
quietly observing, cautiously watching,
invisible to ourselves,
invisible to everyone
YOU ARE READING
Naive
PoezjaWORDS 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...
