Ashes that I now carry within my pockets,
All those letters, I penned obliviously.
What could I burn other than me?
For All I've cried after are those times-
I died a little more.
Think of it, moments of sixteen,
And all I did was to knit intricate fantasies-
Now what? Unconscious; pathetically injured.
Left with hazy echoes of all those times-
I died a little more.
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xyz24haha
Aug 26, 2021 01:04PM
Hello everyone!Here's your not-so-very-consistent author. So sorry for ghosting all of a sudden. Yesterday was the last exam for my college, so let's just hope that I did well, which I obviously am...Посмотреть все беседы
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