Title: *
by John Smith from Northumberland | in writing, poetry
Why did you do this? To me.
Couldn't you of seen it coming?
The Beauty had already been done in.
Battered with any sense of hope.
Dark. Dark depths have come now.
They lie upon my chest, against my back.
On my head.
Crushing the soul of everyone around you.
The murky glaze that once appeared bright.
Now a distant memory.
Albion ey? what a lovely thought.
Comments