~*~
scratches down the length of his back
filling yourself with the confidence you lack
tugging away at his strands of hair
struggling inside beyond repair
he seems to help but you aren't sure
broken innocence no longer pure
decrepit memories crumble in your mind
physically and mentally falling behind
clothes are strewn across the floor
snuck out again through the back door
caught by signs and flashing lights
that reek of city and thoughtless nights
motion pictures flood your brain
nothing to lose, nothing to gain.
your mind's a riddle that you can't crack
so you return yet again
to leave scratches on his back
-N
YOU ARE READING
nat's rant book
Randomsure, it's titled a "rant book", but this lil' book will also cover topics such as; tags/art/schedule changes/Q&A's/poems/etc. enjoy?
