I'm up to 35.
35 despaired pages, each turned with a painfully waning chance of happiness.
I weep for this diary
The crisp-white pages are darker than dark, tattooed with pain
Written in ink, but meant in blood.
(I'm starting to wonder if I have any left in my veins)
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
I'm up to 35.
35 despaired pages, each turned with a painfully waning chance of happiness.
I weep for this diary
The crisp-white pages are darker than dark, tattooed with pain
Written in ink, but meant in blood.
(I'm starting to wonder if I have any left in my veins)
