It’s archaic by my poemattic

What our souls are made of

:☾ a rustic array of verses that whisper themselves through the centuries,and into the shallow depths of my heart. i will write until the sun meets the moon, i will write until the poet dies too soon.16☾︎ the swords i wield get stronger with every scar on my skin.beware, i may very well win.8-m.h.
𝐃𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 :☾︎ to those people who in the midst of laughter and familiar faces,feel secluded and desolated.this one is for all of us.8𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚈 𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙴𝚂 :

scathing Saturn rings
or so Celestial says
treacherous with thought          layla   
deadlier dreams
handsome boys 
tripwire trail of tragic grief        blue mountains   
white daisies 
dear ma   
the last days   
the wind falls on summer's …
a candlelight vigilant
Tragedies and Escapades
Ocean skips a heart beat
'tis the frost
Message in a bottle
Jungle cries
before I know it
Sky as mines
The thirteenth day of October
A late sunday


Published by Bm

I'm a student. Singing and sketching is my hobby. Your life does not get better by chance. It gets better by a change Supporting female for every injustice

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