you
threw me
and when i shattered
you picked up all my pieces
and pretended like
you were going
to fix
me
YOU ARE READING
The Lonely Hour
PoésieNot everything rhymes Not everything has to Of all that is bright And what hides in darkness The loving The hiding The living The Binding It hurts us not To follow a purpose To quell our minds dullness And to find our own fullness. Of sentences Of...
