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We are soft, malleable things
behind our
brittle masks. We dance to
the music of
of our dying days, and the
champagne tastes
a little bit like sadness,
but maybe if we
drink enough of it we will
drown. I'm sick
of wanting things I can't
have. I'm sick
of feeling sick, with my
life, with myself.
I'm sick of gritting
my teeth for people
who would sooner punch
through them.
I'm sick of smiling
for a world that doesn't
want to look me in the
eyes.
☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
11 faves
·
Sep 23, 2017 12:27am
