my demons like to dress up for tea in their teeny tiny dresses two times too big for their skinny frames just to sit and watch me bleed out my soul. i lose myself and all they do is laugh at the gossip of my thoughts; merely half-rumours that cannot even equal a cent of the truth.
-b
YOU ARE READING
queued thoughts
Poetrymy lips shame of unspoken words. self-written with a sprinkle of inspiration here and there.
