Vent

Jayden

no matter how long i stay scrubbing my skin, your hands still stay.
holding my insecurities like a wannabe defective bomb, begging to be set off my something as small as broken glass.
begging to face defeat with a shattered spine, broken ribs just to smile and take in the fact that it didnt stay to see the grass grow greener, the clouds shift fron blue to pink and fade away into tiny lights screaming the reasons it should have held on.