If you find me smiling, don't ask why, I won't know how to shut up, I'll speak about love and poems and words you'll think only a insane person could speak — until you fall as hard as I fell.
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"
