"It Is Not The End"
the closer i got to
people, the more alone
i felt.
and their faces would
say more about me
than i could ever of
myself.
maybe that is why i
felt so empty sometimes.
i left my pieces in
the places that filled
me.
and in the end,
i lost myself
in everything i
knew i loved.
YOU ARE READING
BLACK BUTTERFLY
PoetryI recently went to a bookstore and decided to write down it's poems: by ROBERT M. DRAKE. BLACK BUTTERFLY.
