Tears are rolling down my face,
washing away all the pain.
I'm looking forward
for my eyes
to be finally clean.
YOU ARE READING
Pain on paper
PoetrySometimes I speak to you As if you were Still here, I Think it's called Poetry (David Jones)
Seven
Tears are rolling down my face,
washing away all the pain.
I'm looking forward
for my eyes
to be finally clean.
