HOLD
It is not the cradle of a human
I crave
Yet why am I so cold?
A glimpse of a future
Branded into an abyss that
Holds no existence.
I reach out to touch you
But you do not feel me
My hand bitter and pale
It fell.
YOU ARE READING
messy poetry from a messy mind
PoesiaI guess this is my subconscious mind in words, I'm riddled with all sorts of mental illness so my mind is often not the nicest of places to be.
