Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2014
Imagine all the mistakes that were all confused signs. That precious note that you left to allow everyone to experience all the innocent knowledge that you were simply numb was found with shattered fingers that split with the scents of those promises that you broke. That precious note you left was a gun that was pointed to your mothers head while she pulled the trigger.
Rose
Written by
Rose
302
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems