I blame,
Everything.
Give me my flower back.
Or I will tear all the weeds,
Out of my way until I reach her.
YOU ARE READING
Wilted
PoetryShe couldn't see him, But she was all he could see. Raw Poetry, by: Mae Ethlyn
Him
I blame,
Everything.
Give me my flower back.
Or I will tear all the weeds,
Out of my way until I reach her.
