When the smoke fills my lungs, I will hold my breath and let it contaminate my walls a little bit more, and to just see the thinnest cloud of smoke come out of me because that is when I know that I have done it right — if right means deadly.
(d.r.)
YOU ARE READING
Black & Poisonous
Poetry"She had 50 days left to live. She had 5000 words left to say." A compilation of 50-word poems by a child who longed to see a better future than the one they've set for themselves. Each piece takes 12 seconds to read. #833 - 27/05/17 #687 - 28/05...
