The joy, and the love
The bond, and the rage
Rewinding the videos every nightThe house was full when I arrived
I sat on a table with no reservations
I get to talk but they don't get to talkAn unlocked door I glanced
I had a choice, so I chose one thingSlashed every vine
Slashed every curse
I ran without looking back
YOU ARE READING
the archives from batch no. 823
Poetrya collection of unsaid thoughts, archived in my mind and now written in words.