hello
if you're reading this,
im afraid you're reading a chapter
of.. well... me.
today he tried at least
he did
a compliment, or was it?
he looked for a reaction.
but can't I refuse?
a week of long nights
talking to a dear friend
whose name will not appear
trying to prevent the cuts on her skin
cant she refuse?
little things slowly weighing on my mind
every day I wish I were actually the
joyous person I make it out I am.
I'm afraid not
and this realization is something I can't refuse.