Poetry and other musings from a haunted mind(all poetry written by me, Haunted Lunacy, unless otherwise labeled. IG:@hauntedlunacypoetry
TikTok:@haunted_lunacy
Website:hauntedlunacypoetry.blogspot.com
The poets curse is to hold this pen, to write the words that hurt within, to weep alone and spill this ink, when all he wants is to cease to think. These pages stained with memories so dear, he keeps them close and pretends she’s near. Immortal words, his ink will flow, he can never truly let her go.
Silent words whispered beneath the sounds of the pouring rain .Hushed tones of forgotten love. A cold embrace to calm the pain, as our souls are cleansed by the water above. Chaos screams behind my eyes, As you take my hand and calm the cries. My demons are silent, they have no say . When washed by the rain that is Becca hay.
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