My hands bleed , but words still drift from them, wanting to be heard and brought to life...but my god does the honesty kill me.
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.
"for all it was"
My hands bleed , but words still drift from them, wanting to be heard and brought to life...but my god does the honesty kill me.
