deepundergroundpoetry.com

Tainted

Where the dead leaves lay
on the ground,
where I'm lost in sight
and silent sound.
You are regulating
my nature,
you are resonating through my mind.
Where I was found
in pieces on your bed,
still are the voices that fuck
with my head.
You are somewhere quiet
and ever so unaware
like the lies that were
never there.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
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