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Schizology

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It seems time has ended The years passing by Seem to have no end The dreams I've had Are of you Still being my best friend The months drag on They seem to never stop One after another At this point I'm feeling the opposite of on top The weeks pile up I stopped counting now Seven days each Without you How, I really don't know The days are growing Three-hundred sixty-five Each seem frozen If you were here Time would melt and thrive The hours, terrible The time slow like a worm That seem asleep With your assistance Time would wake I'm sure Minutes not moving The hands pointing down Like it has died Just say yes And the clock will turn around Seconds are not bad Because one day I know At any moment you May come back And time will return to its normal flow ©Schizology It seems time has ended #poem✍🧡🧡💛 #Broken #missed

It seems time has ended The years passing by Seem to have no end The dreams I've had Are of you Still being my best friend The months drag on They seem to never stop One after another At this point I'm feeling the opposite of on top The weeks pile up I stopped counting now Seven days each Without you How, I really don't know The days are growing Three-hundred sixty-five Each seem frozen If you were here Time would melt and thrive The hours, terrible The time slow like a worm That seem asleep With your assistance Time would wake I'm sure Minutes not moving The hands pointing down Like it has died Just say yes And the clock will turn around Seconds are not bad Because one day I know At any moment you May come back And time will return to its normal flow ©Schizology It seems time has ended #poem✍🧡🧡💛 #Broken #missed

Sup_holster

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White White were those walls, Tainted in time. The dark oil patches, The steams and smoke. Dreams buried within each drop. Yes, the walls of kitchen... Painted all in tears and blood. The blood of killed dreams. The tears of mere body alive. And they say of funeral... To have the most tears flown. And of battlegrounds, For the count of blood drops. But these kitchen walls! They have witnessed the most of these. ©Sup_holster white #sad_quotes

White White were those walls, Tainted in time. The dark oil patches, The steams and smoke. Dreams buried within each drop. Yes, the walls of kitchen... Painted all in tears and blood. The blood of killed dreams. The tears of mere body alive. And they say of funeral... To have the most tears flown. And of battlegrounds, For the count of blood drops. But these kitchen walls! They have witnessed the most of these. ©Sup_holster white #sad_quotes