i sat on my roof, 3am , the arctic monkeys playing softly beside me on my radio, i played with my lighter and lit my cigarette. thinking about shit that happened 2 years ago, and shit that happened a month ago. i can't believe I'm 15 and I'm on the urge of wanting to jump off this roof, I mean who wouldn't be sad in a pathetic world like this?, people make it shit. I fiddle with my laces on my shoes, i bring my knees up to my chest and sigh, I let my purple hair fall over my knees as i hum the lyrics to the Rolling Stones that are currently on my radio, i look at the sky and bit my lip, sometimes i wish I could fly. oh how i wish I could fly. I stomped on my cigarette and kicked it off the roof, i jumped back into my room pleading to myself my mother didn't hear. i kicked off my beaten converse and lay in bed.
6am.
i wake up, screams to be heard. not birds. no fucking alarm or the smell of bacon. just screaming. i sigh and run down my old wooden stair case. my mother stood there drinking the last bit of her vodka, fucking slut, she spat , she threw the clear glass at me. i wince, I'm used to it, it's okay. my legs and arms bled. bruised. i lay in bed, grab my cigarette box and climb on my roof, i put my hand in my hair as i light the cigarette. take me away. i plead , salty tears cascade down my pale cheeks, please take me the fuck away.
