" i've got a tight grip on reality
but I can't let go of what's in front of me.
i know you're leaving in the morning
when you wake up.
leave me with some kind of proof that
it's not a dream. "
- the only exception, paramore
YOU ARE READING
4AM
Poetry"i walk this empty street on the boulevard of broken dreams, where the city sleeps and i'm the only one and i walk alone." - a collection of thoughts, lyrics and poetry from various sources initially assembled as a result of nocturnal boredom.
