By: p.a. LEX
I felt alone and abandoned. I was filled with darkness to an extent that I spat vicious and vile words to anyone who advanced with the bearings of nothing but peace. I was given so much pain-too much pain-that I was grazed too deep to be fixed.
The impending bleakness of my solitude was inevitable-I was a falling star that has been pushed away from the opulence of the galaxy. My story was simply just an eternal woe, that every page seemed heavier to turn-and words appeared to be floating in the air of dismay. This was the kind of story that you just want to end and forget. And that was what I felt about my life; a story that needed to end.
So then, I died-and I survived
YOU ARE READING
Pages of Despondence
PoetryA batch of poetries and short stories for the broken. You may portray it in any way you want. Most of my works are for the abused, scorned and rejected.
