rotten crowd that’s not worth even a part of you
single stars that shine through the avenue
shall i cover in green envy of my doom
or shall i call you the last person in the room
all i ever want for thyself is to be enough
heart full of promises covered in dust
take a look at the grey fog in the mirror
perhaps one day you can see thyself clearer
almighty saint soul that i had
never would be written in the prophecy of the God
Lies of my tongue are an inevitable curse
never would be written in the providence of the Universe
calling God every night
I am a person in heaven
thinking it’s living hell
Why does it feel so heavy?
When will my suffering end?
calling god every night
feels like a fucking fight
neither dead, not yet alive
why does he love some more than I
more than I, my heart, and blood
why doesn’t he answer some of the nights
why would he leave me alone sometimes
Is it because I forget he’s alive?
or is it because I am doomed in a night?
About the Author
Victoria Hundred, firstname.lastname@example.org