My mind didn't stop, she keep talking.
She, my mind, broke my soul in every single way, again, i don't feel, i feel confused, dead.
with cigarettes of lies i try to confuse mi mind, the smoke of them is black as charcoal and smells like vodka. I smoke them while i try to keep my soul alive, trying to reconstruct my soul and demanding my self not to cry. Any way i forgot how to cry.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
when? why?
Teen FictionSolo quería un sitio donde escribir cosas que han pasado por mi mente; los que se sientan identificados con ellas son bienvenidos al club. att: you know
