Breath
A young woman’s heart is made of
what we shall not define or deceive
Because life is seldom honest
and love
is merely a chance to thieve
Come make me doubt my own pain
You are but the winds’ breath
And we are all insane
YOU ARE READING
Playing With Words
PoetryJust some poetry and stuff: The words of a young adult with too many thoughts. It might suck, but I don't care. These are my own, sincere words; There is no right and wrong, as they constantly wander through spheres of whom they belong. This is me...
