My Address
I live on wires.
Standing on fire.
no room for tire.
I'm left to die.
I live behind.
Where you can never find
Me, with broken binds.
I choose to die.
I live afraid.
Unaided and disdained.
Refuse and stay sane.
I chose to die with all the pain.
A collection of poems written by aquintaine.
YOU ARE READING
Melancholia.
Poetrymelancholy, blithe and bewildered poesies this is not a place you'd want to enter
