I'm lost
I wanna be found.
I think,
But the muscles of my body seem a little tired
I'm tired
I think I'm fine here
The confines of my room can lead me wherever they wish
YOU ARE READING
Fuck You, Nicely
PoetryOne finding themselves, ups and downs; streams of melancholy and yearning of the heart. Contains time stamps of a life that seem to fade too fast and rants through life lessons I often forget. There might be some triggers with eating and just mental...
