Some die
Some starve
Some cry
Most cut
And they will be missed
Some are alone
Some are lost in a crowd
Some yell out and moan
Most do not voice their troubles aloud
And they will be missed
#1 Poetry
#2 Random
A small but ever-growing collection of original poetry from the mind of a 19 year old pothead. This is home to a large range of thoughts, feelings, and ideas that cloud my head in poetry form.