Sometimes I wish I were insane.
Then I would have an excuse for the fluttering of my heart when the crimson streams flow down.
Perhaps then there would be a reason that I enjoy it.
Or maybe I don't enjoy it.
Perhaps the fluttering is fear.
Alll the same,
Someone still my beating heart.
Still my beating heart,
All the same.
YOU ARE READING
Sometimes I Write Poems, Sometimes I Write Songs
RandomA collection of everything I've written to be posted on theprose.com. Between short stories and poetry, I think too much.
