I’ve even lost the motivation to argue for what’s right.
Arms full of scars &
Mind lacking in stars
I wish that I could stop saying that I am fine, and actually feel fine.
Don’t speak because it’s not that nobody listens, but rather everyone listens.
We all want to believe there’s something medically wrong with us.
Just so we can blame our sadness on something other than our lives.
Everything is falling apart and into pieces and I can’t seem to find any of them.
If we can share our books and thoughts, we just might get along.
Sometimes I just want someone who won’t mind the superficial mindless chatter I release to fill the cold air in hopes it’ll warm us when we’re too shy to hold hands.
It’s sometimes okay to have a bad day because sometimes, you have a better night sleep knowing your fantastical dreams will be better than the reality that you have faced.
Is it bad that I don’t care for you, only the idea of you?