whenadreamdies, it sounds a slightandwhisperedsigh reminiscent of the featheredcrushing of anangel'swings. i suddenly have aslightandsinking feeling that maybe hell is what we'relivingin today.
Reason for writing:
Most of my poetry is inspired by my muse or my dreams, and i am usually the last person to know for what reason they are written. I submitted this one because i'm trying to break into the scene and thought y'all might enjoy it. Ciao.
Birth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by amandine libra.