I've become an army,
representing the weak and
the poor.
I've started to fight
in the name of the sad
and the broken.
This hardcore nationalistic
movement inside me
is pleading for attention,
and dying for love.
If my mind could give in to
the pain,
and embrace the years of
suffering,
it wouldn't matter in the end.
It'll kill me either way.
YOU ARE READING
Sleep My Love: Poetry
PoetryA collection of poetry by yours truly. I also write my poems into song form and if you like them, ill write more.
