You're a rose ,armed with thorns of barbarity. The strain is that sometimes your own thorns will draw blood from your broad skin. You're a poem, affluent with language. Your tongue is as sharp as a razor blade. There will be times where your words will break your own heart and cut your own wrists.You're an incensed sea, with furious waves and riptides. The problem is that sometimes you'll drown in your very own water.
YOU ARE READING
Memoirs Of A Crying Darling
RandomShe always tried to write happy stories and think happy thoughts and to adumbrate the future that may or may not await her.
