I still see her at the fringes sometimes. She's with the people who send me supplies, but they don't talk about me. Nobody does.
What is there to talk about?
So little, in fact, that they forget about me.
But that’s fine.
They wouldn’t get anything out of it anyway.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryA Wattpad-exclusive. I was inspired by DDLC for these, and I decided to post them here because it'd be cool to have some feedback.