Come and find me, hold my hand
We'll watch the world subside
Where tears are for the lucky ones
And nostalgia reins wild
Sing me songs of childhood veins
Teach me stories of youth
Of how you always tried to believe
But you never knew the truth
Tell me things you'll never do
As we wander off the edge
Into the infinite mass of black
Where you will lay your head
My soul will tare with your farewell
For you'll forget my mere existence
And hold the next hand that appears
For death has no resistance
YOU ARE READING
a hopeless poet
Poetryin which a much younger version of myself writes naive verses and labels them as poems. Cover by @decapitate. Copyright 2014 curiousraccoon / curiousi-tea
