i love to scar, with a heart too soft, and lost thoughts too far-off. on ripped paper, i think too endlessly. with a mind bursting at the seams, longing for a heart full of gold, to rip me from my daydreams. to open my view, to see, with eyes far too cold, to see anything we could've been.
i haven't been writing poetry very much, i know it's ****, please hate me