broken bones and split lips are the only things in the world that will ever come close to knowing how my heart does as the light sets from it like the most haunting sunset you’ve ever seen, and you hate it, because it breaks your heart, but you can’t seem to tear your eyes away.
IT’S 11:39 PM AND IM TIRED OF LIVING AND YOU’RE THE OnLY THING STOPPING ME FROM SWALLOWING THIS BOTTLE OF PILLS AND
I think maybe they make animal skin drums from the hides of mental patients because they don’t really need their skin anyway.
and maybe you’re a fan of sad songs, because that’s exactly what you are. maybe they make you cry because you can taste the hauntingly naked notes in the tears that pool in your eyes from the surface tension (quiz you failed) and eventually sometimes lose their grip and slide down you face, caught by the corners of your mouth. maybe they’re the only thing you listen to because they
maybe I can only write fragments of poems because I only know fragments of these feelings