Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2023
waste
i thought i made a masterpiece,
but i just ended up hurting my fist,
asking myself his worth,
of the spaces on these pages,
of the ink from my pens,
of the words,
coming from my head
for mr. killua
daisy
Written by
daisy  21
(21)   
85
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems