Ink spills on the torn paper
Letters strung together like string
Blue ink painting colors unlike its own
Soaking into the place
That lies behind my irises
With sights I have not yet seen
Although this is just ink spilled on torn paper
And letters just lines strung together
More is seen than the blue ink
YOU ARE READING
The Big Depressi
PoésieThese are some sad poems and some random imagery ones (light mention of suicide)
