WHO KNOWS WHERE THE DEAD GOES
a wretched and poor soul like mine grieve for lives cut short before their prime a piece of me taken without consent pain has always been constantly present the little light in my soul blinks despair stares at me then winks they know how to get me without stress just a little death, I go depressed when people die, a piece of me dies too it’s like counting your days when in the loo the pain and hurt is a far cry from reality I’m soft hearted, that’s my disability who knows where the dead goes? we only know our friends and foes time is nothing but a pathetic fraud grave and hades are hopelessly bored breathe is nothing but a vapor what’s more painful than nine months of wasted labor an open sore or an infested wound? destiny offers no choice, it cares not of your mood @talk2leigh (X & insta) 11:08am 26 Feb 2026
