The heart of my soul hides a more deeper meaning than what it seems. The cup of tea, not cold nor hot yet nonexistent, sadly. The mirror shows an image that makes me so sick, so sick, so sick, so... sick
To bad, it can't more sickening, not like the flu sick, but the kind of sick that makes you so sick that you would rather choke on your own vomit than look in the mirror one last time, one last time, last time, last... time... promise...
I'm sorry the diet cokes are not working, the salad taste like something water gave birth to. My hair is falling out, hair falling out, hair falling out, falling out. My hair is no longer beautiful... Her name is 10 million women, you know who she is, you know her name, you know her. You might even be her
You are beautiful just the way you are. If you ever want to talk, my inbox is always open.
YOU ARE READING
This Life
PoesíaPoems I have written that I have decided to share with the world finally.
