Hearts are like stomaches,
Now that the sun is setting
I grow so hungry.
Acid burns a hole,
My hollow head making it
Churn with discontent.
I shall take a breathe,
Letting me slowly dream up
A hopeful new world.
YOU ARE READING
The Confessions of a 90's Kid
Poetry"Words are weapons: for warriors, for war heroes, for worrying teenagers and therefore for me."
