When Will This End?
You- an open wound.
It scabbed but my mind picked it.
I bleed for you still.
3
1
1
green leaf volatiles
blades on the wet ground
screams in a mist—heavenly
smells of fresh cut grass
1
0
0
You- an open wound.
It scabbed but my mind picked it.
I bleed for you still.
blades on the wet ground
screams in a mist—heavenly
smells of fresh cut grass