Story cover for My thoughts  by violetharold
My thoughts
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𝕋𝕙𝕖 π•‘π• π•–π•žπ•€ 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕣𝕒𝕨, π•™π• π•Ÿπ•–π•€π•₯, π•’π•Ÿπ•• π•¦π•Ÿπ•’π•‘π• π•π• π•˜π•–π•₯π•šπ•”, 𝕔𝕒𝕑π•₯π•¦π•£π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•–π•€π•€π•–π•Ÿπ•”π•– 𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕙𝕒π•₯ π•šπ•₯ 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕀 π•π•šπ•œπ•– π•₯𝕠 π•π•šπ•§π•– π•¨π•šπ•₯𝕙 π••π•–π•‘π•£π•–π•€π•€π•šπ• π•Ÿ. π•₯𝕙𝕖 π••π•’π•£π•œπ•Ÿπ•–π•€π•€ 𝕠𝕗 π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•žπ•šπ•Ÿπ••,π•€π•’π••π•Ÿπ•–π•€π•€ π•’π•Ÿπ•• π•₯𝕙𝕖 𝕀π•₯π•£π•¦π•˜π•˜π•π•– π•₯𝕠 π•—π•šπ•Ÿπ•• 𝕙𝕠𝕑𝕖 π•šπ•Ÿ π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•žπ•šπ••π•€π•₯ 𝕠𝕗 π••π•–π•€π•‘π•’π•šπ•£. π•‹π•™π•£π• π•¦π•˜π•™ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕀 π•ͺ𝕠𝕦 π•¨π•šπ•π• 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝 π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•¨π•–π•šπ•˜π•™π•₯ 𝕠𝕗 π••π•–π•‘π•£π•–π•€π•€π•šπ• π•Ÿ, 𝕒𝕀 π•šπ•₯ π•₯π•’π•œπ•–π•€ 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕕 π•’π•Ÿπ•• 𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕦𝕀𝕖𝕀 π•₯𝕠 𝕝𝕖π•₯ π•˜π• . 𝔹𝕦π•₯ π•–π•§π•–π•Ÿ π•’π•žπ•šπ••π•€π•₯ π•₯𝕙𝕖 π••π•’π•£π•œπ•Ÿπ•–π•€π•€, π•₯𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 π•žπ• π•žπ•–π•Ÿπ•₯𝕀 𝕠𝕗 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦π•₯π•ͺ π•’π•Ÿπ•• π•π•šπ•˜π•™π•₯ π•‹π•™π•šπ•€ π•šπ•€ 𝕒 π•“π• π• π•œ π•₯𝕙𝕒π•₯ π•¨π•šπ•π• π•£π•–π•€π• π•Ÿπ•’π•₯𝕖 π•¨π•šπ•₯𝕙 π•’π•Ÿπ•ͺπ• π•Ÿπ•– 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕙𝕒𝕀 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕀π•₯π•£π•¦π•˜π•˜π•π•–π•• π•¨π•šπ•₯𝕙 π••π•–π•‘π•£π•–π•€π•€π•šπ• π•Ÿ. 𝕀π•₯ π•šπ•€ 𝕒 π•£π•–π•žπ•šπ•Ÿπ••π•–π•£ π•₯𝕙𝕒π•₯ 𝕨𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 π•Ÿπ• π•₯ π•’π•π• π•Ÿπ•– π•šπ•Ÿ 𝕠𝕦𝕣 π•‘π•’π•šπ•Ÿ π•’π•Ÿπ•• π•₯𝕙𝕒π•₯ π•₯𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 π•šπ•€ 𝕒𝕝𝕨𝕒π•ͺ𝕀 𝕙𝕠𝕑𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣 π•₯π• π•žπ• π•£π•£π• π•¨.
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Poems of Pain and Solitude

101 parts Complete

For every person out there that was quiet, not because they chose to be so, but because they were choking in the smoke. Because their opinions were apparently not worth anything. Because they didn't know just how to say what they felt. For every person that is consumed by their own thoughts, the derision from the outside world only making it worse. For every soul that was drowning in remorse and anguish on restless nights. For every soul that says I love you in the dark and in the mirror because no one else does. For the floors we would pace while anxiety sunk its teeth into us. For the mirrors that we would break while shame echoed its laugh in our caged walls. For the hearts that would ache while loneliness was the only company. For every moment of pain and solitude in this world that feels too cruel for such young and frail minds.