1:16a.m.
He constantly reminded himself that he was the host of his body; that the man standing before him in that mirror was not a parasite that he must disassociate his mind from. The boy whose protector lived inside him grew up to be the man whose murderer lived within him, creeping in the shadows of the crevices in his ruined, scarred mind.
.s
YOU ARE READING
it's 5 a.m. now
Poetrya taste of everything that has made life a little more bitter and on rare occasions; a little sweeter | just an informal way to get thoughts out, i guess
