10:31 pm, Friday, 9th June
"Darkness is a hideaway for the weak" you had muttered,
in grunts that were creased with a silent agony that I knew was tearing you apart.
"How so?" I had said, but you shook away your thoughts,
never mentioning it ever again.
YOU ARE READING
dysphoria
Поэзияsilent pleas from a heart that's been tainted blue, a mind that ripples in constant turmoil and a mouth that remains shut //
