The streets of his mind were narrow and cold, always the same thoughts walked these streets.
He knew them all by name, the woes were getting old.
He paced back and forth, asking thinking to himself where things went wrong.
He thought he’d done everything right, but reality creeped up from behind
Looking up into the dark, he felt the cold drip of tears, they were all his own.
“I don’t love you,” a voice screamed in his head.
His heart sunk, as if it were made of lead.
He and the voice both knew,
He was better off dead.
About the Creator
Diego Estevez
Hi, all! I'm Diego, a writer set to unleash storytelling magic. Join me as we explore emotions and new worlds. You, dear reader, are vital to this journey. Immerse, feel and experience my tales. Let's embark on a literary escapade!
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