Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2020
I break apart more bit by bit every single day,
While I wait for you to tell me you'll stay.

Those words still haven't been said,
I think you left me for the dead.

Have a great life,
At least one of us doesn't have a knife.
Broken Pieces
Written by
Broken Pieces  17/F/Looking for homeπŸ›£οΈ
(17/F/Looking for homeπŸ›£οΈ)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems