The little things still get to me, like the shop with the towels saying luke and anthony. How is that not the world laughing, how is that not to remind me of my fall.
My fall from your hold and touch, the fall from were I thought I was your love. My fall that you pushed me into. So far I fell from the begining changing to be what you could love, but still I was not good enough. So I fell, from grace and sanity.
Into the darkness of the night where I was the one who caused the pain, I was the one to make myself bleed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It Happens only occationally for the turning point, nice expression, well penned, thanks,10+