What if words came out of my mouth as much as tears did out of my eyes, and such words that haunt me, I desire to speak to those that have ruined me? Though, perhaps, I'd just watch myself with watery eyes, wishing I was not my own enemy.
YOU ARE READING
Every Tear
PoetryStaring at these blank pages my mind is empty, the words won't bleed from my fingertips, for they only know my eyes.
