How can something that made me feel so safe and secure be the very thing that destroyed me in the end? How is it possible that you gave me comfort but also fueled my urge to self destruct?
Your hands felt like home, and now that you're gone I guess I'm homeless. I hop from places to places (people to people), hoping that somehow one of these places would feel as cozy as you did. But all I do is compare them to you.
When will this end? I'm tired and I can no longer pretend.
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 6:21 AM UTC
How can something that made me feel so safe and secure be the very thing that destroyed me in the end? How is it possible that you gave me comfort but also fueled my urge to self destruct?
Your hands felt like home, and now that you're gone I guess I'm homeless. I hop from places to places (people to people), hoping that somehow one of these places would feel as cozy as you did. But all I do is compare them to you.
When will this end? I'm tired and I can no longer pretend.
