Ill keep my soul hidden in between the bruised knuckles I've had throughout my childhood,
cause not one person would dare to hold the weight of my pain without feeling overwhelmed by it,
cause that's a child's million dreams crushed in between walls and anger,
recklessly, repeatedly.
YOU ARE READING
existence within earth
PoetryPoetry in words of a mess, written throughout years of my teenage angst that continues. "Shall wisdom and hell be spoken when my ink turns into blood"
