Tea, toast, and manic depression
- Reads 42
- Votes 2
- Parts 4
"What sordid poetry is this?
An undeserving justice rained down upon the hearts of innocents.
And yet, you call this poison beauty?
This bastardisation fair?
See me... My name is misanthropy."
A collection of varying writing styles, from poetry, spoken word, and journal entries, all from the mind of a damaged soul.
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