Poems from devine42

I sit in my room all alone with the moon with a bottle of gin as my love and I cry for the ones who are dead but with words...
  Vincent Van Gogh dined on yellow paint, trying to drown his insides with happiness, sunshine or maybe trying to paint his thoughts into...
Moons ago we were mountain children; offspring of time and fields of warring blood. We lived in the smell of pine and the dusts of...
You are my impossible, my only in a world full of nevers. My harbor in the eye of the impassable storm. My North Star stitched in the...
Depression creeps in like a theif in the night with thick fingers and meaty hands- The bigger the palm the more of your soul can be eaten...

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