Written some time during my sophomore year....
You always do that... your so predictable.
Of course you don't want to. You're so boring
Really? Get over it. People are dying right now.
This is pointless, you are pointless
Work harder. Hunch more.
Really, ruin your body?
You are helpless and hopeless. Poor baby.
His mumbles aren't chaotic, they are whispers that escape his mind.
He speaks softly to match the tone of his mind.
He yells louder to drown out those voices.
Who are you to determine what mood he is in?
Who are you to decide what he should say?
He is not a puppet, not some play thing,
he has dimensions and personality.
"He is fucking beautiful."
He has hopes, dreams, wishes and cares.
Passions and goals, futures and pasts.
He may not know it now, and it may take him a while,
but his whispers will get quieter, and they will fade like the clouds.
His mind will clear and his voice will ring loud,
"I am fucking beautiful"
I Go Crazy - Orla Gartland
YOU ARE READING
This is for Us
Storie d'amoreUs, Them, and Everyone else who needs us. Who needs me, and most importantly... Everyone who needs you.
