It's cold, too cold alone, too cold together. Any colder an I'd be ice. Why not let some one stoke a fire, why not let someone into the dark room? Cause it would only hurt more to push them back out. To stamp out the fire again, to think of something more than letters. Reaching through the walls, they try to pull me out but I know where I'm meant to be. I know what is best for me, I know what needs to be done. Don't try to pull me free, I don't want to be set free. I want the comfort of my dark cell with in. With the screen showing the comforts of fantasy and false truths, with the world locked out.
YOU ARE READING
Happy and Derranged
RandomI'm going to be writing a series of stories, hopefully all pretty short. They will show my frustration with life and the people around me. They'll also show what interests me.
