i am sitting alone, / on a wooden bench. / it is dark, / it is raining, / it is cold.
i never thought, / i would try to find beauty in the stars / alone. / it's funny, isn't it. / it's dark / and it's raining. / and i, / i am so cold.
there is an emptiness sitting next to me, / filled with damp wood / and frozen air. / there is an emptiness. / there is an emptiness. / and i no longer know what to fill it with.
YOU ARE READING
emotionally
Não Ficçãobasically a book where i write down how i'm feeling, throw in some really shitty poetry here and there and maybe a few songs for the hell of it. [ trigger warning ]
