the world likes to rip apart
the true beauties of what we
have to offer under our own
harsh gaze.
☹
a story about a man trying his hardest to hide things he shouldn’t from everyone, including himself. it doesn’t work, it never works.
☹
“you’re sad, aren’t you?”
“yes. no. maybe? it’s really hard to tell anymore.”
“maybe sad is an understatement and the reason you say that.”
YOU ARE READING
maintain
Poetry" you are a storm inside a pair of old, smoke stained dirty black lungs, within itself a story deserving to be told. " { 3/23/18 }
