Hot, angry tears rush to my eyes and I frustratedly wipe them away with the backs of my hands, leaving drops trailing down my wrists. I let out a cry of desperation, embodying my internal conflict, figuring out whether we're all living or just slowly dying.
I don't think there's a difference.
YOU ARE READING
excerpts
Poetryexcerpts from books i'll never write advice & nonsensical blurbs realizations & regrets heartbreak & pain thoughts & fears hopes & dreams shorts & stories forever ongoing, so long as our minds do not stop imagining and inventing and we do not sto...
