The wine has run dry. In an attempt to satisfy infatuations over the years I've found that everything is temporary. I resent it all. Life. How do you make purpose in purposeless existence? The world is on fire and I've finally sat down like the rest of you. I'll quit screaming. I've found that nonexistence is the only way to save everyone. I'm numb or exhausted but I finally understand there's no one that can truly love you. This is all I can do, this is the most control I'll have.
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Tangled Strings Among Other Messy Things
PoetryAn assortment of poems and writings from specific moments, traumas, and memories of my own life. -Note- Everything written under this title is my own work, distribution or copied works are not tolerated. The cover is of my own collection, it is not...
