Angels.
The music was loud,
all the souls were black,
you tried to blend with the crowd,
but there was no going back.
Heavy breath,
the sound of death,
quiet sighs,
look into each-other's eyes,
crying seems an okay try,
but I would rather not die,
try, try, try,
bye, bye, bye.
YOU ARE READING
speed bump
PoetryI write my poems when I'm bored, Because I can't say what I feel without being forward, I read all night, And sleep all day, Just to keep you all away, I'm sick and tired, Of being w...
