The voices don't stop.
They seem to never cease. But maybe they're correct. That no one really cares. Because maybe, just maybe they're giving me some scares. And also giving scars which are never gone. Every day they're redder glistening with my blood.
Rosier than her lips. Her lips are so divine. And hopefully some day those lips will soon be mine.
And when that day comes I hope that she will care. For if that were to happen I wonder how'd she dare.
YOU ARE READING
Diary of a smol bean
De Todojust random stuff i think of during the day or other depressing shit because i make sense
