Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2017
You will seek me
and I will not show
Where I go to play
We won't let you pass the front door.
You couldn't fix us
so you left.
I was the only one left
picking up the pieces
in the end
after everything was broken.
Written by
Chancellor  Forest
(Forest)   
  257
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems