Books burn. Pages ripped. Tears spilled. Bodies Bled. All are dead. Life isn't worth it. The pain is to real. I can't deal I'm not made out of steel. I'm weak. Barely breathing.
YOU ARE READING
Sinking
PoetryPoetry That I Have Written My Friends Always Said I Should Make A Book Dedicated To Them....So Enjoy?
Rapid Thoughts
Books burn. Pages ripped. Tears spilled. Bodies Bled. All are dead. Life isn't worth it. The pain is to real. I can't deal I'm not made out of steel. I'm weak. Barely breathing.
