My hearts a grave and its abysmal.
I live my life inside out, showing people the hollowness of my innards before they dare touch me.
I have nothing left to give, nothing left to grieve.
I’m an embodiment of the word emptied.
Don’t touch me.
I could spoil you, turn your insides black. Rot your center and watch you crawl away slack limbed and jawless.
Diseases aren’t made, they’re born.
Don’t forget that.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 1:07 AM UTC
My hearts a grave and its abysmal.
I live my life inside out, showing people the hollowness of my innards before they dare touch me.
I have nothing left to give, nothing left to grieve.
I’m an embodiment of the word emptied.
Don’t touch me.
I could spoil you, turn your insides black. Rot your center and watch you crawl away slack limbed and jawless.
Diseases aren’t made, they’re born.
Don’t forget that.
