Your love for yourself is cup of pure black coffee and you added sugar and cream in it, then decorate it to be picture-perfect in hopes of making it taste and look better, but at one point, you might have added a little bit too much that amidst all the sweetness and sprinkles of art, no trace of it was left.
YOU ARE READING
Mediocrity
PoetryA collection of poetry and prose that border on mediocrity. Do not expect anything great here.
