she lays in her bed, the breeze from outside hitting her skin, cold to the touch. she will ask herself why she's here, but she will one day see why. soon, love.
YOU ARE READING
Writings
PoetryAnything and everything. Most of it is bad. I wrote most of it when I was like 12 and being abused or recovering from it lol
soon, love
she lays in her bed, the breeze from outside hitting her skin, cold to the touch. she will ask herself why she's here, but she will one day see why. soon, love.
