read between the lines in our hands and tell me what do you see,
i see the future of you without me.
that is when we get mad, we would get mad for nothing.
when things turn to bad, i choose not to say anything.
our palms tell us a little story, but all i see is a distant memory.
YOU ARE READING
Don't Speak
PoetryA collection of poetry I've been writing from when I was 14 till now.