❝Ripping and grasping at the fine line of wire that keeps me barred to the past. Must be severed, just be serviant. You're holding the keys, but the locks on each door are only a figment of the deciteful imagination. You always did love your parlour tricks.❞
Saturday, June 1, 2019
3:21 P.M
YOU ARE READING
Dear Insecurity
Poesía{ONGOING} Excerpts from a book that I will never have the time to write ❝Face down in the dirt She said, this doesn't hurt She said, I've finally had enough.❞ © The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
