People love to ruin,
whatever's good left in the scene.
They want it crushed and in bits,
till they can feed it
to calm their greed and envy.
You call me innocent,
and I wonder how everytime.
I've seen the world in the night,
seen the monsters and their ties.
I've seen it all, and I've hurted more than I can count,
...so tell me how am I innocent at all?
YOU ARE READING
Silence and Sins
PoetryNone of us are the same. Every mind different, Every body different, Every soul different. but funny isn't it, that yet here we are, Agreeing. Feeling. Knowing. Understanding. Just what those lines mean, written by a single person. because we've...
