To J, with love, hate and regret.

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I don't feel dread
I don't feel fear
here in this bed
I just know, the end is near

so why don't you make dreams fly
see the others cry
for the first time it's about you
not them, you

when silence becomes a weapon
and they tell you not to speak
then scream as loud as can be
until you are weak

toy cars or dollhouses, who cares anyways,
if you don't feel welcome anyways,
empty yet full of hatred,
a husk has been created

I don't miss you, J
I just hope you're okay,
call me never, leave no voicemail,
are you even still around?

Failure
Maybe it was me
Maybe it was my fault
Maybe I was the Failure all along

Maybe it was me, who didn't care enough

The real Miss Apathy

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