Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2019
It
It hurts.
It’s it fault.
He’s hurt.
It’s it’s fear.
The last thing, it’ll ever wish.
The only exit for sleep.
It craves the unconsciousness.
It sleeps to erase the thought of he.
It dreamed of he.
It cries.
he laughs.
It’s it, It hurt he.
He loved it.
It dreams to sleep.
He
Written by
Lynn
  182
   roumen
Please log in to view and add comments on poems