I want to meet a good person,
Let someone break my heart barrier,
Fall asleep in someone's arms,
But I can feel the nyctophillia,
The insomnia,
The madness.
It's slowly seeping into my mind.
I can't seem to find an escape.
For the only release of these feelings,
Is death.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry for the Pained
PuisiThis is just poetry that I've randomly written, and feel like publishing them will help or inspire others. They're all pretty short. Please, no hatful remarks.
