So. I'm another year older. Been breathing for twenty two years. Isn't that mental? Twenty two fucking years.... Fuck....
Some people would call me young. They'd say how I've got the rest of my life ahead of me. How I've got so much left to explore now.
But I know otherwise.
I'm already old. Old in the sense that I don't know what my future will be. And getting depressed when I ponder the unknown.
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Poetry Book 1
PoetryRandom Poetry! This is just a cute selection of them. 😊 They're not necessarily in any particular order, they're just in the order of randomness! So *warning*: the emotions WILL fluctuate a lot!! And also *warning* possible profanity. STARTED: Marc...
