I love the world but I just don't love the way it makes me feel. Paper skin wants to meet silver. Hollow throat begs for a fist around it. Knuckles like a blank canvas expect to be coloured with shades of purple, green, red and blue. Dry eyes want to overflow and drown one's self. Broken voice wants to speak loud enough to burn the lungs. All of this carried by a rabid mind and a heart that beats so slow.
September 17th, 2019
YOU ARE READING
In My Head
Non-FictionJust a place where I let the thoughts, ideas, tragedies, events and possibilities that thrive within me and the experiences I've lived be voiced and bear a place where others may understand them. •lower-case "i" intended •Cover made by me *Warning:...
