Poetry from a broken past
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
Memory
The memories
When you remind me of that memory. Something inside crushes me. I feel like i want to crumble and i fumble with my hands and turn them into fists. Cause that memory crushes me.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment