Nothing ever ends poetically.
It ends and we turn it into poetry. All of this blood was never once beautiful; it was merely just red.
YOU ARE READING
the girl who cried ink
PoetryNo one listened, so instead of speaking, I wrote ranking(s): #61 quote
084
Nothing ever ends poetically.
It ends and we turn it into poetry. All of this blood was never once beautiful; it was merely just red.
