I wanna go.
I wanna get away -
from everyone; everything.
I wanna find my own little individual path.
I want my pockets to sag with prosperity;
I want to find the one that likes me for my soul, as well as my outer shell, too.
I wanna feel that love.
Gentle fingertips on my back every night.
Life-changing kisses that stir up all my emotions.
I wanna feel that love.
The last thing I want to be fed, are bitter, dry memories of ignorance.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Suicide...
Poésie(#12 in Poetry- 3/5/17 |14 in Poetry- 2/28/17 |23 in Poetry- 11/18/16) Have you ever considered picking up a pen and writing to the one you fear most? Well, that's what I've done. When I write to my fears, It's oddly satisfying, because I know that...