I bet if I killed myself; you'd all try to say I was loved. But where were you when I was bleeding the night before?
YOU ARE READING
Dysphoria
PoesíaIn my head I scream; struggling to hold onto you with love comes decay.
I had a bet to myself
I bet if I killed myself; you'd all try to say I was loved. But where were you when I was bleeding the night before?
