the best people are the ones you don't see—the ones you glance over.
they're the glass children who roam endlessly, eternally lost.
their shards shimmer as you reminisce of better times.
they fade as you cease to seek soft hearts.
and their lives slowly grow dim as night creeps by.
the best people are the ones who leave too soon...
—to the iridescent boy who gave up being loved.
YOU ARE READING
On The Edge Of Nowhere
PoetryHere I am teetering on the edge of nowhere. >>p o e t r y f r o m a n g e l>> ******
