People say that tears are cold
But mine are hot
They run down my cheeks and over my nose as I lay down
My breath gets caught in my throat as I whisper out another groan
I wonder if my mother cries
I wonder if her tears are cold
Or warm like mine
YOU ARE READING
•Mind on Paper•
PoesíaThis is going to be a collection of late night thoughts and spurs of inspiration for your viewing pleasure. Some of these could be happy, sad, melancholic, and much more. My brain is the brush, the paper, or in this case the screen is my canvas. I...
