So that sounds like it sucks…
Yeah dyings no joke...
my poems have numbers
numbers as titles...
Seven cycles of the seasons later,
and I'm still gluing back together...
Nothing I wright
Can be as good as yours...
TW: sh!!
Please don't read if you're triggered by su1cide...
The door left ajar, suddenly creaked open.
Cold eyes shot me down to the hard ground...
Daddy i miss you
No more whiskered face rubs...
Baba is dying
and the universe is crumbling...
Why is someone else's death repulsive
But my own appealing...
I'd like to go out in a field
Dig myself a grave...
Do not weep when I am gone,
It is not chance but mine own choice...
Mercy have my soul
Mortal - for what it is worth...