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victoria-truaxPoems
Anxiety. Conserve. Conservatory. Shakespeare. Man. Monk. **** I ****** I'm better. Expulsion. Breathe. Friend. Not friend. Friend. Best friend. Awkward. I still have that. Dress. Tights. Queen. Mill. Birthday. Song. 500. Guitar. Tears. Nostalgia. Nostalgic. Dead. You're dead. You're dying. I'm dying. I'm dead. I'm not dead. 24. You're blonde. I'm not blonde. I'm old. I'm still old. I'm a child. I'm going to cry. Stop. I don't cry. No more crying. I'm allowed to cry here. That's why I cry here. I'm allowed. I can do what I want. I know what I want. I have no idea what I want. But I think that's what I want. I'm not doing what I want. But this is enough. It's not enough. I'll make it enough. Where am I? 24. Twenty. Four. Stop thinking.
0
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
Stream of Conciousness
Anxiety. Conserve. Conservatory. Shakespeare. Man. Monk. **** I ****** I'm better. Expulsion. Breathe. Friend. Not friend. Friend. Best friend. Awkward. I still have that. Dress. Tights. Queen. Mill. Birthday. Song. 500. Guitar. Tears. Nostalgia. Nostalgic. Dead. You're dead. You're dying. I'm dying. I'm dead. I'm not dead. 24. You're blonde. I'm not blonde. I'm old. I'm still old. I'm a child. I'm going to cry. Stop. I don't cry. No more crying. I'm allowed to cry here. That's why I cry here. I'm allowed. I can do what I want. I know what I want. I have no idea what I want. But I think that's what I want. I'm not doing what I want. But this is enough. It's not enough. I'll make it enough. Where am I? 24. Twenty. Four. Stop thinking.
Written by
victoria-truax
American
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
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