depression looks good on you
crawling on your skin
pulling through your bones
only your eyes are mistreated
happiness is a threat
missing victories
false hopes
look in the mirror
but where's yourself ?
pray the god you find it back
even though we all know
only the demons have the key
YOU ARE READING
voltairement
PoetryGod is dead, - said Nietzsche. In a land of desolation and ghosts You were an angel. Like every other creature, you've been wasted. Wicked little thing.
