I have a peak and don't like what I see. I close the door. I read and It's painful. Words that I use to love shout at me from the pages, telling me I'm wrong. I'm not right. I peak. It's not good. I want to come out, but I can't. The walls are painted the familiar colors. Pink. Purple. Blue. I read again and hear what those people say. It hurts. Because I'm wrong. But why?
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A Few Failed Feelings
PoesíaJust a bunch of random poems that I sometimes think up. No regular updates. If I think of something that sounds somewhat poetic I'll add to it I guess, but I most likely will not be adding to it weekly and possibly not even monthly. (Slight trigger...
