At the end of the day there's no one who can tell you...youre beauitful..
A broken wound does not always heal.
Every so often you just picked at the scab thinking it would get better but it just won't.
You can't just keep at picking at it and peel the dry top layer of ur dead skin and it would go away.
It's not how it works.
At the end of the day I'm just alone.
I start a conversation with myself because I'm that lonely and want the attention of another person.
Physically they aren't there.
Mentally they are.
The only people who are actually there for you is
You, yourself and I.
Like
Share
About the Creator
Bleu Lotus
Another melancholy plant-based poet
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.