How do you pick yourself back up when it's 1 am and nobody is alive enough to show you pity?
how does it feel when your best friend leaves you because you're too boring? What about when your boyfriend chooses someone else over you because she knows how to touch him just right?
Do you quake in your sleep because your nightmares become too much until you no longer sleep anymore?
How long will it be until you go crazy; when will your sanity wear thin?
I ask these questions to nobody, or to myself, because I do not know.
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poetry
Poetrypoetry is when an emotion has found its thought, and the thought has found words -robert frost. all poems are mine unless stated otherwise. just thought i'd give someone a taste of my mind. #4 in ode
