experimental
-
Destruction was coursing through my veins. I had to do something to take the pressure away. I had to find someone, anyone. There were bridges to be burned. Cities to be razed. I started playing the game. Increasingly bored by every player. Except one. I wanted him to be my Ides of March. I wanted
-
I don’t know what I was looking for I just felt like it was too late I spent my youth playing games But mostly running away. From myself From my family From the cruelty of living. But I couldn’t run forever So I ran into the arms of a man Who held me like you
-
I’m popping pills with the hopes of surviving I’m popping pills with the hope that someday I will thrive Someday I will be alive.
-
We’re good at breaking each other’s heart Sadness overpowered us from the start Doomed to repeat the same mistakes Doing whatever it takes To keep going, living, trying Even though, every breath feels like I’m dying It’s unfair to keep going like this I didn’t even realize that I left a part of me with
-
I will always love you and I don’t know why. Our lives ran parallel for so long until they diverged. I wish that it might have been different. Honestly, I wish that our paths never crossed. These are words that I can never say to you because I’m afraid. Afraid to leave you more broken
-
I could have sworn that you were broken. I never thought that I would be the one to break you. But I give myself too much credit. And you never enough.
-
“Titles are easy but content is difficult.” I find myself repeating this phrase to myself every time I want to write something here. WordPress used to be my safe haven on the Internet. It was a place where I could truly express myself without the fear of judgment from my peers. My use of the
-
I hate you. Plain and simple, isn’t it? No, because nothing is ever plain or simple. This deeply rooted hate stems from a place of even greater love. A love that was ruined by a revelation. A revelation that involved an adulterous affair and a child born out of wedlock. The signs were there all
-
We haven’t spoken in a while. Yet every time we speak it’s the same conversation. I miss you. I miss you too. Are we going to meet up soon? Definitely. And then the conversation goes cold. When do we stop fooling ourselves? There’s no point in chasing phantoms, only to trip on memories.
-
Old lovers crawling out of the wasteland that is my memory. They have no right occupying space in my head anymore. Exile is best suited for them. And yet, I feel a subtle twinge of sadness. Feelings never really faded, only put in stasis.
Trapped In The Margins 