It hurts...
Hell, it kills... killing me
But I like it.
I need the pain.
I feed on it.
When something becomes all you know,
All you depend on.
Because it's the only thing that's ever constant.
Regardless of its negatives
You'll find comfort in the feeling of the familiarity.
The nostalgia.
-M
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Anthology
DiversosThis book consist of an anthology of poetry. It's also copyrighted material.
