I am once again writing to you cause life seems to put less pressure on me when it's about you. I'm abundantly tired and ill cause I feel like I'm fastened in my own brain the longer I stay home(...)
My head is full of insensible, — oblivious fears and scattered panic attacks,
I dissolve,
Hardly live as I'm around this house of memories,
I wish dearly you were the one to paint my mind with your laughter and not these people I've known for years,
Screaming putting their pride before care infront of what they say.
YOU ARE READING
existence within earth
PoetryPoetry in words of a mess, written throughout years of my teenage angst that continues. "Shall wisdom and hell be spoken when my ink turns into blood"