Despite the times I've rehearsed the melody, I couldn't sing without crying, knowing my songs were for you.
I've spent my whole life finding the right words but you didn't hear my call — you couldn't hear my call, for I was the whale that sang at a hertz of 52.
(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...
