Am I handsome?
Am I damaged?
Living such a life that's not worth a damn thing.
I wonder why,
the persons born to be the main attraction,
falls victim to becoming the fool with no one's attention.
Turning his head,
mourning his symbolic death.
Learning by morning,
that his very existence was nothing more that a series of silent warnings.
He was a menace,
with nothing left except a forbidden romance.
Living for what was left of his lovers fragrance.
He was damaged and handsome,
but will forever be frozen and lonesome.
YOU ARE READING
The Journal
RandomLetters from a boy who felt at one point or another alone. Who wrote as a way to find a new voice. These are things he wished he could've said. Things he should've claimed. And now will be saying. These are words that come from a place of hurt and...
