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shortcomings
Folder:
In Cold Blood. from quiet disorder
to soft content,
malnutrition.
a stomach ache,
relentless involvement
and self centered me,
(a closet of envy)
words of entrapment
the mirror,
that held it's vision
of illusion,
of fear,
shattered for seven years.
we are simple
i love,
you're caring,
and that's realism.
in denial
my worth and emptiness
makes me feel...suicidal,
but i smile
it's a power
of abuse,
so misleading
i'm like a child,
in disbelief
so vulnerable,
i'm a copy,
of a self
of a need
of nothing more
of everything.
i came to know
that wishes failed,
and the stars that fell
(that i had wished upon)
burned out like candles,
long ago.
the trees bore leaves that turned
the cycle continued,
undisturbed.
with or without me
life goes on,
but that is what i heard,
once.
