I don't know why I'm here. Writing is supposed to be therapy. But I'm not real. You are not real. Not anymore.  None of this is real. You get too close, and it all burns away like ashes from a cigarette. Keep your distance.  I promise you will get burned.  Don't say I didn't warn you.
  • Purgatory
  • JoinedSeptember 16, 2016


Story by Scatter_Flame
This isn't real by Scatter_Flame
This isn't real
I'm not a poet. This isn't poetry. There is no purpose, only pain.