Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2014
It's like the things that I write, don't sit quite right with the people I idolize., it's like the things that I write stay out of sight, and are never truly recognized. Though they cut like a knife, spread bare my insides, show you just what it's like, to be living a life, where you already have died.Β Β Bare witness to my demise, it will end as a suicide in the future sometime, to that I testify.
EphemeralLikeGold
Written by
EphemeralLikeGold  23/M
(23/M)   
462
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems