i'm tired, utterly so
if it was not a sin
to kill your own life—
instead of acting upon it
i learned
not to live
nor to survive
but tolerance
glad,
how i learned it
the hard way
YOU ARE READING
Soliloquized
PoetryA collection of poems and prose. Grief, melancholy, pain, and maybe, just maybe I could write something that resembles happiness too.
