Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2023
The type to go
To die, "before his time."
If there is such a thing.
Sunglasses inside,
Though I'm trailed in shade
And trapped within,
Nights that rule day.

Sleep like a pillow, no one there

In my heart, in my head
Written by
Man  23
(23)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems