Yet I lay here, sick and dying, I lay on the verge of death,
And the fateful moment nearing, when I shall draw my last breath,
Most of you, who hear this story, know that you aren't at fault,
Yet my feelings aren't as open, locked inside a mental vault,
Don't you get that I'm unwanted, that it's best for me to go?
My heart shattered, speech depressing, but it wasn't always so.
YOU ARE READING
Shadows far behind my eyes
PoésieA collection of my poetry, made specifically for this book.
