where we write it


Did I stay out of character for too long?

Escaping to food, and pleasuring myself..

Something is too far fetch..  like the dreams I wasn’t meant to get.

Wishing I died earlier. It’s not getting better; worse only, and more unjust.

I’m sick of language. I said it earlier… willing to give up my speaking ability.

How did you mean everything to me?

When you left, I looked everywhere inside.  Just empty..

Lost, I needed somebody to pick me,

Although I’m lost for words,

I’m writing letters from where you left me.
I’ll always be passive now.. staying to be tortured.

Dead roses and black flowers… I’m too lonely.

Numb drinking your lethal mix of love and insanity


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