hush, children. i know that unsuperior isn't a real word.
unsuperior.
my leather bound journal
is what truly hides
my frozen insides
which are decorated in red snow
and flakes of torn up dreams
but I am too tired to unload
my distracted thoughts
upon someone else
because
well,
who knows?
they may have some of their own.
YOU ARE READING
untitled.
PoetryStars and painted candlelights are the only things that bother to keep me sane, these days. But it's okay. I know you're trying. (My first posted poetry collection)
