Those of you who gave up on me because of my disposition and preferences:
I still lugged you and your dead weight along for months.
Because expressing myself had scraped out my soul, leaving my body hollow.
(I was weak, merely a carcass)
Because bad people are like bad food,
You know that they'll hurt you, you know that society will shame you for tolerating them.
But you can't help but use them to fill the empty, hollow void that seems to grow.
Although with every indulgence, the void dares to grow until it rips my fragile plasticised body apart, like the wrapper of an enticing chocolate bar.
••••
A/N: what did you think? Xx
YOU ARE READING
A Culmination Of Realities
PoetryAs we float through life, victimized by circumstance and stalked by rumours, we come to understand that false rumours have opposites: realities. These are the realities to which this book is dedicated. These realities share only truth, for some are...
