There's a sickness,
in my brain,
It travels through my bones,
carelessly infecting my soul.
Oh, how it burns,
lighting me from within.
One day,
I'll be nothing,
only a pile of smoking ashes.
Left behind,
to float on the frosty wind.
Speaking to Lost Souls
By Goddess_ofthe_Void
A collection of thoughts and emotion. Forgive me. I have a poet's soul, but not a poet's pen. More