I've wanted to die. Needed to cry.
Nightshade is beautiful. But it's poison. Just like the boy who broke your heart.*Edited*
Some call them poems, but for me, they are all, self portraits.
I don't want to sleep, for the dreams make me weep,
By mipoet
Some sad days come, and I start to feel numb, sick to my stomach, at the state of affairs.
I haven't even wanted to write. I've been frozen, in a seemingly endless night.
Two young men off to war. One is my husband's grandfather. The other.....
For the prompt 'noble'.
I always share my scars with you, so that you do not feel it too.
The child was small and he was sweet. Little legs took him down the street.
Nightshade is beautiful. But it's poison. Just like the boy who broke your heart.*Edited*
Some call them poems, but for me, they are all, self portraits.
I don't want to sleep, for the dreams make me weep,
By mipoet
Some sad days come, and I start to feel numb, sick to my stomach, at the state of affairs.
I haven't even wanted to write. I've been frozen, in a seemingly endless night.
Two young men off to war. One is my husband's grandfather. The other.....
For the prompt 'noble'.
I always share my scars with you, so that you do not feel it too.
The child was small and he was sweet. Little legs took him down the street.