poem
shadows.
To much thinking and to much weeping has me feeling cold and aloneand that theres no where for me to go.
Unseen Unheard
I have faced death countless times. But still i live How? Why? . The hand of life that i have been delt is worse then the hand of death itself perhaps.
Unwanted Unloved
So in the shadows is where i sit waiting.
For not even death wants me.
T.V.H.06
