No hint of anything can be seen in the cavernous depths of my mind. A vast expanse of nothingness.
And then a wall.
A solid obsidian entity unwilling to shift for means other than its own.
Not a singular ray of light shining in.
All of the rifts in the mass patched.
Solid.
An impenetrable barrier.
Hopeless.

i’m made of sidewalk cracks and moments i should’ve taken
i’m made of broken rings and the wrong girls i put my trust in.
because i didn’t know what love was until i kissed a girl made of thorns
and i didn’t know what happiness was until fear started sleeping without locking the door.
i’m no where near what the world makes me out to be
what it expects from me
and maybe that’s okay.
i’m made of ****** coffee and the constant pressure of being something else
i'm made of holes in the foundation and girls that kiss me just to watch me melt.
because i didn't know what lust was until i touched skin made of broken glass
and i didn't know what hope was until i fell a little too fast.
my story ends before it even starts
because forever is only real if you look like art
but i look like broken promises in an empty hallway
and maybe that's okay.