In sorrow shall thou eat of it:
It that one bespoke of,
The bitter tree that one had sown,
Sew from the anger and distasteful hatred,
Hate that battered thine heart,
The flinging memories shall haunt thee,
Memories of a future regret,
Nostalgia neither sweet nor bitter;
but inherently regretful.
YOU ARE READING
THE BOY ON THE BRIDGE.
PoetryThe weakest ink harbors the strongest minds. A collection of thoughts that will blow your mind. Some emotions laced herein are quirky, any similarity to real characters is just a mere coincidence*
