Words like daggers aren't new, are they?
Torn table clothes scoff at me.
They talk back to me when I scream at them.
They are the only ones who talk with me.
Am I supposed to live?
Am I supposed to die?
Do I look like I'm fit to be left alone?
If not, Why can't no one stay?
They think I'm sane.
I'm insane, I'm dangerous for myself.
I'm supposed to wake up tomorrow
With a fake smile plastered across my face.
We all are supposedly living.
YOU ARE READING
#ME
RandomThis is a collection of my thoughts in the form of scribbles, poems and quotes.
