With flowers we will grow,
and with petals we drop..and with the fruit we pick,
let us rot.
...
Cry for help and scream in pain,
no one will hear you,
not even the lords name you pray.
...
Time is inevitable, and death is slow.
Because we all start dying,
from the minute we woke.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts Of Me, Sorry.
PoetryJust everyday, unconventional, uplifting, relatable, sad writings. Take a journey through my head. **warning-may make you unconsciously slip into a corner alone, with sad music drowning you through your headphones**
