I have so many wounds caused by crushed ego. So, so many, that a fellow collector would be proud.
And all of them burn right now.
I feel like crying as I write this. I've felt like crying the whole day long (the whole week long, actually), because it's like I'm worth nothing. I feel — purely — broken.
I can't seem to let my past go away. And as much as I understand that I'm thinking negatively, I can't help but to do so: negative it's all I've ever been familiar to. And all of the positives didn't last long enough to barely complete a sentence in this book. It's so fucking pathetic I can't even stand myself.
I look at the mirror, feeling the urge to scream my lungs out — because I (really, really) want to believe that I'm good enough. But I can't. I look at me, and I can't.
So I wish I could just rip off my own heart.
Cause maybe like that I would stop burning myself from the inside out.

VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
Algo Novo
PoésieUma nova era de poesias, que fazem o seu melhor para espelharem aquilo que há em mim.