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All steps lead to an inevitable madness, decisions pending from the edge, and white lies professed.
Shattered tomorrows lay ahead alike the mazes running inside my head.
Time is a ticking bomb mocking me till the day I make fall.
It's harder to cease than to run. Still, I'm unaware which one will be my saving grace when I make my call.
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Yearn To Touch | Poetry Book #1
PoetryThe walls guarding your heart will crumble down to the bone. And all that shall remain are the cracks and chips upon the beating surface. Drop by drop your emotions and desires will bleed. But know that you must tumble and fall before learning to st...
