my poetry skims
from hopeless to full of hope
from desolate depression
to wide eyed optimism
and i know i should really live
in the grey-based reality in-between
but dreamers gotta dream…
my poetry skims
from hopeless to full of hope
from desolate depression
to wide eyed optimism
and i know i should really live
in the grey-based reality in-between
but dreamers gotta dream…
i had such hopes
and dreams
for august
and though it is not over
yet
i’m having those desolate feels
forlorn
desolate
why can’t i be honest?
why can i never
update
realistically?
why am i so scared of being
me?