deepundergroundpoetry.com
SoR
It's so cold, the way the shards of rain seem to stop time
In the place of memories there are hollow outlines of what was the truth
Now it collects into a pool of everything you hate, everything that helps me feel free without you
Do you listen to how it hits the soft ground?
In the place of memories there are hollow outlines of what was the truth
Now it collects into a pool of everything you hate, everything that helps me feel free without you
Do you listen to how it hits the soft ground?
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