Poems from devine42
I sit in my room
all alone with the moon
with a bottle of gin as my love
and I cry for the ones
who are dead but with
words...
Vincent Van Gogh dined on yellow paint,
trying to drown his insides with happiness,
sunshine or maybe trying to paint his
thoughts into...
Moons ago
we were mountain children;
offspring of time and
fields of warring blood.
We lived in the smell of
pine and the dusts
of...
You are my impossible,
my only in a world full of
nevers.
My harbor in the eye
of the impassable storm.
My North Star stitched in
the...
Depression creeps in
like a theif in the night
with thick fingers and
meaty hands-
The bigger the palm
the more of your soul can be eaten...