Suicide.
A love of mine for the rest of time.
Death of mind, and death of soul.
A necessary thing in a world so cold.
Suicide.
A love of mine for the rest of my time.
A lonely love,
That unlike yours isn't carried by doves.
Suicide.
A love of mine till the end of my time.
What a tragic way to go,
Cold and alone almost like freezing in the snow.
Suicide.
A love of mine that'll bring others pain till the end of time.
For there is no gaining anything from this love of mine known as,
Suicide.
YOU ARE READING
Undead Poetry.
PoetryLate night poems written by an insomniac, and published here. This'll be my poem collection, and will stay exclusively on Wattpad. I hope you enjoy these poems as much as I enjoy writing them.
