December 8th
I keep running back to the one who broke my heart. I let you treat me like a rag then pretend it's all my fault.
I've got a disorder in my brain, some kind of faulty chemistry. Any other girl'd be insane for putting up with how you treat me.
I let you rip away my innocence while pretending that it's love. And I kept foolishly thinking that one time would be enough.
I'm not a clay doll to be molded, but I let you reshape me just to fit your kind of perfect that you wanted me to be.
And someday I'll meet a nice guy, and he'll love me selflessly. And I'll tell him about every way that you've damaged me.
But then you'll show up inside my dreams, or I'll see your face in town. And despite my better judgment, I'll hope once more that we'd work out.
With every single test of faith, you've always failed to come through, and the scars you left will never fade but I know given any reason I'd come running back to you.
YOU ARE READING
Notes
RandomA glimpse into my mind. These are notes from my phone, starting from 2013 to the present day. My poems, rants, late night thoughts, things I've seen and heard, words I wanted to remember. (Note: There is some content hinting at various mature or tri...
