she wasn't happy.
but she wasn't dead inside.
she didn't want to live either, she had no will.
she spent most of her nights sobbing silently into her plush pillows.
this sad, sad girl was in the in-between.
this girl was me.
YOU ARE READING
black roses painted red.
Poetrythis is a book that i have poured my heart, soul and all my vulnerabilities into. thank you for being my home and holding my heart when no one else did. i hope when you read this that you can connect with me and the others who have read this, i hope...
