Eat my heart off a paper plate. No plastic because it creates less evidence. The blood won't soak in and you can just- throw it away, create more landfill. That's a talent of yours. Creating longterm damage. You'd burn down rainforests just to get your own satisfaction. You are the reason I'll never trust another's words again. Yours tasted so sweet but I couldn't justify them for the poison that flowed through my body, up into my brain and it rests in my ears. It disintegrates each rose petal so just a stick with thorns is left, they've lodged themselves in my self confidence and pokes at each of my flaws making them more prominent to me. My head is now an ugly thorn bush where no roses grow, it's thick and untameable and its growing slowly through my body. Wrapping it's self around my heart and soul. Creating a defence, not even Prince Charming could cut his way through. Hopefully one day the thorn bushes will die and create a fertiliser for the next garden that will sprout with many different colours and flowers and it will be beautiful and perfect. But until then, my thorn bush grows.
YOU ARE READING
home grown disaster
Teen FictionA collection of thoughts of a young adult, not the library section kind of young adult, like an actual adult who is young and she is really struggling living out of home, doing well in university, being a decent friend, being a adequate person to da...
