Quinn scribbles tainted emotions across thin layers of white paper. But to who? To someone who blinks once, sees her, and blinks again-just to make her disappear. To someone who sees her as a symbol of the ocean. To someone who thinks the ocean is disgusting and hideous, filled with trash and pathetic wandering fishes. To someone who believes that Quinn needs to be a size zero to be labeled as 'beautiful.' If she isn't, why in the world will anyone care to love her? She's disgusting. Worthless. An enormous sailboat that makes the world sink. But how long will it take until she sinks herself?

❝the stars are bright, but i must say your smile is better, any day.❞ [© afterwords 2014, all rights reserved] poetry #301

the scattered thoughts of a sixteen year old

“i give a fuck. i give a lot of fucks, actually. i'm a prostitute of feelings.”

You are the reason I have ink stains on my fingertips. art by yuschav arly

//Don't kiss me if you're afraid of thunder, my life is a storm// her name was elena and he had none they both had a strange passion for rain and whatever their souls were made of, they were the same. [currently on hold due to exams, however thanks so much for taking the time to read it! I love you all & I'll be back soon, chin up buttercups ^^]