Here I sit
With head throbbing
A headache I'm not sure how I got
I tell myself
Just eight more days
Before I can see your smile once again
Just eight more days until we can poke each other
Like the innocent couple we are
As a type
And think of you
The headache goes away
You seem to be the cure for just about everything
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
Sorting Poems Of A Pessimistic Optimist
PoesiaThese are basically poems that I use to sort out my emotions and such. The poems might be really cheesy and stuff just because the type of emotions I need to sort out most of the time. I will still update the other poem collection but I will post lo...
