I have drank nothing from the morning,
then why my own eyes don't know it?
Why they get watery, why don't they preserve something I don't have much?
Even cactus turns its leaves into spines
but my orbs,
they don't harden rather softens,
drowned in wine.
- he asked "are you crying?", she replied.
YOU ARE READING
THE GIRL WHO SPOKE POETRY
PoetryThe thing about pain is, it makes you question.. what makes you human? ____________ **Not cliche, I repeat, Not cliche, WARNING, not cliche**
