I wish myself ill luck to promote the idea of emotional scars to poetry,
the guy I loose my virginity to will not love me, and i will soak up the
rejection and use the feelings to fuel a story, one that will justify the
manipulation that only I can predict; the manipulation that I create
to continue the idea I've manifested in the seasons of bad decisions.
I hope for bad luck so my anger has reason, so my sadness is productive
so I can pretend that I am growing.
so come on, come close as i stain your neck with lips so red.......
YOU ARE READING
The future has already past
PuisiWhile my mind urges me to write something more than I think I can be myself, I sit in my bed the light dimmed and music playing in the background trying to figure out why It's in this book that I will write more. I'm not even sure it matters. I'm...
