sh... they are speeking
children should be seen. but not herd.
This is a book of depressing and suicidal poems. Not all of these are mine. Trigger warning~
l walk down the street. to only feel pane from others. to stop but only for a moment. I hear a sudden rush of rubber grasping for a grip. on the black rode. for all I remember is a thug then, nuthing a solid blackness, tho it seems you can not escape. that's wen it happened. there the first tear, had been shed. for...