Yours always, Pre'asia
- Reads 4,620
- Votes 69
- Parts 16
MatureOngoing2h 56m
Last published Mon, Aug 26, 2013
Thinking of what others have Makes me both mad and sad. It seems like the harder I work The less I achieve. Everyone is jubilant, Yet I still grieve. I don't want a lot Just a bit more than what I got. Tossing and turning Unable to sleep. While others happily live their lives All I seem to do is weep. Nobody understands; Nobody can see The person I am Is not really me. Would they like me? Would they care? If they knew The weird thoughts inside my head Imagining the world if I was dead. Pre'asia Amere
All Rights Reserved
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𝗉𝗈𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗒.
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"𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫." [Slow update] They say love feels like sunlight after winter. But no one warns you - sometimes, it burns. Sometimes, it scars. I never asked for obsession, for manipulation, or for love that feels like poison. He came like wildfire - raw, relentless, unapologetic. My first. My beautiful mistake. He was dangerous in the most beautiful way. Gentle with me, brutal with the world. Every moment with him was comfort laced with chaos. His love? Honey laced with venom - sweet, addicting, and lethal. He didn't cross lines. He erased them. In his madness, I mistook devotion. In cruelty, I saw protection. How do you run from someone who'd bleed to keep you breathing? He saw the cracks no one else noticed. Whispered promises in the dark. And a part of me clung to them. In his arms, the world ceased to exist. But the next storm didn't come with fire. It came in silence. He arrived like a shadow - watching, waiting, suffocating. He didn't touch me - not yet. But I felt him, like smoke in my lungs. He studied me. Then he moved. And when he did, everything changed. He didn't want to love me. He wanted to rewrite me. His silence screamed louder than words. He wanted me to destroy myself for him. Now, I'm torn between two kinds of insanity: One who would ruin the world to protect me. Another who would ruin me to make me his world. And I can't tell the difference anymore. They circle me like wolves, each calling it love. But love was never meant to feel like this. Was it? I used to believe love was a gift. Now I know - it's a gamble. A bloody one. And in this game of obsession and betrayal, I'm no longer sure who the real villain is. Because when both players would kill you for love... What does that make you?
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