The insomnia eats at your skin until it is nothing like a thin paper bag.
Is this how life was supposed to be?
Thinning into a paper bag of nothingness and let it suffocate the last of your words?
The love that was caught in the bag was ripped apart as it conceives that love is a marriage ring.
Fake.
When will you ever learn? No one will love you.
And no one would ever care about the paper bag on your head.
YOU ARE READING
Out Of Order
PoetryPerturbed. Anxiety awaits those who can't distinguish between actions or emotions, therefore never implying what she thought was important. Animosity. Apart from her balancing on the tight rope, resentment tipped her over and down she goes. Deep int...
