I'm writing a novella,
My solemn Cinderella,
Red velvet vendetta
A scrapbook for two.
We know what's inside
Sweet, saccharin cyanide
The words refuse to hide
Till the telling is through.
I fight the jurisdiction
Of critics and their predictions
My novella is mostly fiction
Of what could've been me and you.
A depressive mess of gore
Whose masochism wanted more.
Every page is written for
The parts of each other we can't pursue.
YOU ARE READING
An Enigma Is Too Much For A Cat To Eat
Poetrypoetry from the raw heart of a teenage girl. I wrote this poetry collection throughout my junior year of high school, when so much change was underneath the sun's aura. In and out of depression, in and out of the psych ward, I survived the first ha...
