This house always felt lonely,
And alone she was this day,
She tried to focus on the good,
But her mind always drifted away.
Her insecurities held her down,
Like the devil grabbed her feet,
And every time she tried to kill him,
It was her who she made bleed.
She wrote that life feels so unfair,
For the thousandth time this year,
And a million more she wished for death,
'Cause only living's what she feared.
Today the stars screamed after her,
and the moon was full this night,
She's weak, has nothing more to loose,
It just felt like the perfekt suicide.
YOU ARE READING
Written by the Wind
PoetryIf things get too terrible to speak them out loud, that's when I start writing.. A compliation of my german and english poems. //Eine Zusammenstellung meiner deutschen und englischen Gedichte. Don't read it if you're easily triggered. These poems am...
