November
back in November
before I knew about anything
anything at all
when I cried every tear I'd ever shed
and since then I've been a desert
dried up and empty
seasonally blooming before always drying up again
November
back in November
when innocence was torn away from me
so insensitively
when I barely understood life and death
when it was easy to put down my head and rest
no longer can I be a child
will I ever become an adult?
to me, right now
I don't ever think I will
at least not now
in November
Written by Coby
November 11, 2020
VOUS LISEZ
unfortunately, me
PoésieI'm starting a poetry compilation! These poems will be written by various alters (I am a system, look it up if you don't know what I mean) and each one will have the date and author posted with it to avoid confusion. Updates won't be very often, bu...
