-----She is the light through my barred windows in this room in this house in this life that we hate. Redundant and vague, this is everything we breathe. Here where every weekend is another pity party, sorry for yourself moment, waiting to love, waiting to die, because love isn't real and death is a freedom we don't deserve.
-----The hours of the days of the years of our lives that we waste away are everything we regret. Over clichéd and honest, this is everything we don't want to believe. This is fake this is plastic this is life; where best friends and betrayal wrap around your legs and thighs like vines that grow too fast.
----- We are sorry and we are alone. Wrong and overused we're crying on the inside with our smile lying to everyone we see. Nothing is original and nothing is new. She is inspiration and you are always right, aren't you? You are perfect and you are clean and you are a lie. Fake in every aspect looking in the mirror with your happy smile and bleeding heart. You're sorry, I'm sorry, we're both wrong.
------But she is the rose in the thorn bush and I am the weed in the garden. I could be everything you'll ever miss and everything you'll never love.
----- Empty compassion and obsession is what we thrive on. Passionate about passion and apathetic towards indifference we are a generation spawning hate. When crying is better than nothing, and bleeding is better than not, we are living through extremes.
----- We're lying though our teeth when we say we're okay. I'll be fine and you'll be fine. We're never okay, but we can laernt to live with that or die trying. The best friend you'll never have and the love that isn't real are just more knives in your back and broken hearts on your sleeve.
----- Pathetic and losing motivation; we never reach our potential. We'll never find what we're looking for and we'll never be what we want. We're dreaming for answeres and hiding from the truth.
----- We'd die for each other, but we live for ourselves. Everything is peronal gain, no matter how nice or charitable it seems. We love for affection and we cry for pity. Tarnishing my brain with every fragment image. It's the same way everytime. You're the same way every time. We always cry, and always apologize. Each time we walk away less of a person than when we cam in. We're losing ourselves- turning into slaves to our lives. That's all we are, slaves.
----- So jaded and wrong, your tears are the same and your smile is still just as fake. She is still the last cookie in the jar, and I am still the leftover crumbs. But bleeding is better than not when death is only real, and love is the freedom we'll never have. |
Submission Name: Find your hearts
