I didn't mean to **** myself.
It was just one of those
spurofthemoments.

I colored outside
of the lines. I
took the falsehood
seriously and believed
I was invincible.

The camera never lies,
and I believed every
photo it said.
What a fallacy, would't
you agree?

Dear Diary, you're completely full of ****. You are that streetwalker who passes by with a faux smile and a greeting that defines Charlatan.

"Hello! How are you?"

Well, Diary, I'm broken and full of rotting organs and a brain just screaming for serotonin and a conscious that wants to shove a knife in your chest and a heart that's too weak to do it.

"I'm doing just fine, thanks."

Charlatan Diary, you're nothing but a shallow waste of ink. Waste of ink waste of ink wasteof ink wa ste o f ink wasteofink.

where's the emotion, not a shred left in sight
crying but for no reason why
to feel you have not lived a day in your life