24 Mar 2015
Life is ironic.
One night I can stay up talking until 2am
The second night I would be crying alone.
It's amazing how little people care yet the list of every "friend" they have is miles long?
Sometimes in times like this music is my only friend.
Only the voices in every song.
Indirectly talking to me inside my head.
It's poetic how I crunch up into a ball crying and looking at my trophies on my shelf.
And then in a few years time I won't, but hopefully I'll be in the arms of someone else.
Or just happy within myself.
YOU ARE READING
The recollection of my misunderstood thoughts.
PoetryLife's a struggle and it's hard. There's nothing you can do. Just get trough it. I hate my life. There's nothing new. But when the sun is out and the sky is void of clouds you can't help but feel a smile is overdue
