There are this questions I ask myself. What are we here for? What are we doin'? We have the time to make something right. But just one small moment can make us gone.
The darkness surrownding and the light that is blinding. We're beautiful creatures chasing our dreams. So what do we dream of? Is it love and peace? Questions like this almost never have the answer. So tell me, what the hell are we doing here!
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YOU ARE READING
Hideaway
PoetryA person with a pen in its hands can do more damage than anybody else. Everybody has something to help them cope with their problems. Mine is writing poems, if we could even call this poetry... Anyway enjoy.
