From my rotting body, flowers shall grow for I am the loop, and that is the eternity I adore.
Memory is something I have or I lose that shall define why I feel alone.
Shattered glass can be molded again, but that crumpled piece of paper can never be plain again.
YOU ARE READING
Pieces of my soul
PoetrySoothe the demons in my head, hold me till my death. Highest-ranking #1 in self-absorbed #1 in unsaidfeelings #1 in poem collection #2 in poem collection #4 in latenightthoughts #3 in latenightthoughts #4 in selfreflection
Ambivalence
From my rotting body, flowers shall grow for I am the loop, and that is the eternity I adore.
Memory is something I have or I lose that shall define why I feel alone.
Shattered glass can be molded again, but that crumpled piece of paper can never be plain again.