Nothing made me break.
Nothing made me cry.
Nothing made me choke.
Nothing made me die.
Someone fill the silence.
Fill the empty sound.
Right now I'm full of Nothing.
And of Nothing I am crowned.
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.
