Childish, but impure.
We meshed like puzzle pieces,
But the abyss divided us.
Only the moon knows our truth.
YOU ARE READING
Rambles of the Mind
PoetryBits that may never appear in my works, but wish to be expressed. Bits that spark from nothing it everything. Each one a thought or dream.
7
Childish, but impure.
We meshed like puzzle pieces,
But the abyss divided us.
Only the moon knows our truth.
