every tear he cries
yells at him for being weak
because apparently real men don't cry
although it hurts like hell
to hold everything inside
YOU ARE READING
quarter to dawn {poetry}
Poetrya collection of poems. you ask me why i like art and i tell you that the water colours bleed prettier than my wrists
22
every tear he cries
yells at him for being weak
because apparently real men don't cry
although it hurts like hell
to hold everything inside
