My back leaned against the corner were two walls meet, my legs meet with my chest, but yet my hands can't meet with the door handles and because of that this closet will always be dark.
YOU ARE READING
One Liners
PoetryPoetry is music, music in retrun saves my thought. ------------------ A collection of one sentence/one line poems that range from hope to death. And everything in between.
79. Closet
My back leaned against the corner were two walls meet, my legs meet with my chest, but yet my hands can't meet with the door handles and because of that this closet will always be dark.
