preamble
When I feel rejected,
I layer myself with thoughts that makes no sense to anyone but me.
When I feel down,
I layer my scars with a dark cerulean and my forearms with black.
When this life means nothing to me,
I layer the sky with the gallery in my mind.
When I feel abandoned and left out,
I layer my eyes with tears in the middle of the night.
When I feel art is what I only have,
I layer the papers on my lap with dark graphite.
When I feel words are all what I have left,
I layer the journals here with nonsense no one reads.
When I feel I don't belong in this world,
I do nothing and live to that true fact.
I layer myself with thoughts that makes no sense to anyone but me.
When I feel down,
I layer my scars with a dark cerulean and my forearms with black.
When this life means nothing to me,
I layer the sky with the gallery in my mind.
When I feel abandoned and left out,
I layer my eyes with tears in the middle of the night.
When I feel art is what I only have,
I layer the papers on my lap with dark graphite.
When I feel words are all what I have left,
I layer the journals here with nonsense no one reads.
When I feel I don't belong in this world,
I do nothing and live to that true fact.
Y'know what?
Actually, you don't know a thing about me. Just being a reader of my blogs won't do any good. My words won't do any good. It wouldn't help at all. It doesn't help me anyway. So it wouldn't help you. So if nothing makes sense to you here, or if you think I'm immature, obstinate, idiotic, and then rest of your swear words, then that's practically the only things you got right about me. But like rents, those kinds of thoughts will increase as you keep track of my words here. |
you may now not bother about me around the infinite web...
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