They told me they found your note. They sent me pictures of it but I didn't read it, I can't. They told me you had a whole desk full of notes. You wrote them neatly, all of them clear except the last one. The last one is tear-stained and crumpled. The handwriting is sloppy and dark. The paper its self is just simple notebook paper clearly torn out without a care. It's not like you to be so rough. But I guess it wasn't you, it was the demons that took over.
YOU ARE READING
Meaningless:: a collection
PoesíaI've made this for you for when you're lost and alone when you're sinking like a stone use these words, these pieces of broken soul, to heal your own. - this is strictly for awareness, I do not encourage anyone to do the following and if you stru...
