poisoned from the fruit of betrayal.
he said, "take it."
i took it without doubts
i never knew his apples was a trap,
and so his love too, a poison,
they betrayed me.
-traumatic past.
YOU ARE READING
LET ME WRITE, LET ME BREATHE.
PoetryWe speak different languages with different purposes but we have to always look back and reflect that our words can be a weapon. One of the main reasons why we let our words be heard and be written is that it could be our armor against the enemy, th...
