I feel like this space I'm living in is just a room full of unwanted things. A junk Jawar . I'm not just talking about the mattress in the floor, or the beat up old heater, I'm talking about my dog that we found here, and me. I feel like everything in this room is just full of stuff the gods didn't want. And I'm the little toy they threw away, that's still going on and still living, making a life out of their junk. Trying to get through, to make it on its own. I made a life out of their junk, and i'm a little proud, but then again I feel......useless. I feel unwanted, like nobody really needs me, it's not sad. It's just reality.
YOU ARE READING
Book of random thoughts and quotes.
PoetryIt's a book about my thoughts and feelings that y'all might relate to but other than that I just made it for myself to vent ig idk. 'All pictures took by me' except for the cover
