This sweat is salty on my head.
We came up to that horrible place, just like they said.
We all cried for rest, for a bed.
Who doesn't ask for plenty?
In the end, we just end up empty.
I can feel that all too well.
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 12:46 AM UTC
This sweat is salty on my head.
We came up to that horrible place, just like they said.
We all cried for rest, for a bed.
Who doesn't ask for plenty?
In the end, we just end up empty.
I can feel that all too well.
Request permission to use this poem