you don't know me
but who am I, really?
even I, don't know myself
it's better if we keep it this way;
we don't know me
YOU ARE READING
tiny broken pieces and a faint memory of you
Poetryyou left, and tiny broken pieces and a faint memory of you is what's left of me. cover by @babyblue997
we don't know me-twelve
you don't know me
but who am I, really?
even I, don't know myself
it's better if we keep it this way;
we don't know me
