Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 12
And now? What else do I do?
What will I do when everybody is gone?
For who shall I fight if I don't even know myself anymore?
A poem of doubts lives in my head as a flea lives
In the ear of a dog that maybe, one day, barking will stop.
The nights were made for ******, drunks and the sick of love people but also for those who minds won't ever stop barking.
I never quite know how to organize thoughts after midnight
Written by
Anna  F/from the sun
(F/from the sun)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems