The girl died a while ago.
She's not found, not lost.
She just died.
Everyone dies.
Love doesn't.
-oh love,
the garden grows.
I have to go.
Do not come with me.-
The garden can still be found in a small town like mine.
Fruits still grow,
but every few seconds
someone dies by suicide.
Life is pretty unfair.
Chose your happiness, my dear.
Chose wisely.
YOU ARE READING
Veganism personalised
Poetryin which veganism is a person right in front of me. >>"Hello, my love", I whispered. His smile tastes like mango, not fully ripe.<<
