Thirty years,
three decades,
lost,
wasted.
No fortune,
no fame,
no friends,
no legacy.
Only scars,
and shame,
and silence,
and pain.
Everything hurts,
my body,
my brain,
my heart.
Does anybody love me?
Will anyone miss me?
Will they even remember
I was here?
YOU ARE READING
Poems Plus
PoetryMy heart overflows . . . in poems. Poetry is painting with words as the colors. Awesome cover by @DazzlingGray.
