Me. Everything about me now.
It's what I am.
My purpose is to have no purpose.
My purpose is to hurt others and myself.
My purpose is to walk blind and leave a trail of tears and pain without knowing what I've done.
And that same trail is being traced onto me.
Useless is what I've heard.
It's what I live.
It's what I am.
I need an escape.
It doesn't have to be forever.
I don't care what it is but even now,
The words coming from my cluttered mind only worsen it.
YOU ARE READING
Hurting. An internal desire.
PoetryA collection of thoughts to come through in less than a night.
