deepundergroundpoetry.com
Flustration And Sour End
We call it lust in a awkward place.
Empty vessels of a darkend space.
We shared the bottle and made out in the hallway instead.
Cheap are my moments empty are my thoughts as my bed.
What has it came to?
Why do we ask only to close are hearts in the end.
Empty are my days so why do I continue to pretend?.
Empty vessels of a darkend space.
We shared the bottle and made out in the hallway instead.
Cheap are my moments empty are my thoughts as my bed.
What has it came to?
Why do we ask only to close are hearts in the end.
Empty are my days so why do I continue to pretend?.
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