It screams in silence,
where the mouth is speechless.
It's creeps
In the soul's very darkness.
It has no meaning,
It's only described by the feeling.
It's poetry,
The narrator of my history.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 8:53 PM UTC
It screams in silence,
where the mouth is speechless.
It's creeps
In the soul's very darkness.
It has no meaning,
It's only described by the feeling.
It's poetry,
The narrator of my history.
When the mouth fails...
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