Dear dead me,
Do you love the meat eaters yet?
Or do they hate you more than the humans up here?
Do you feel claustrophobic yet?
Or where you lay seems bigger than the mask you had to wear?
Do you love the silence yet?
Or is it so quiet you remembered how well you loved the noise?
YOU ARE READING
Achlys (Poetic Pain)
PoetryBroken words, From the broken lips, Of a broken poet. Hearts do break over here. (Cover by L_A_JOY)
