It's cold here in this lonely room. I keep trying but nothing can fill the hole in my heart. Listening to beauty only gets me half way there. I want to be beauty. In someone elses eyes. It's cold with the ice pack on my arm. Trying to hide the evidence of my poor attempt at filling the gap. This empty space. So hard to find one missing piece when there's so many more scattered all over. How do we say no? And how do we know we're even supposed to? Maybe the devils path is the only path to true... amirite?
I don't mean to sound like a jerk but this isn't the place for poetry. Try six billion secrets
This sounds like sylvia plath..
What you talking 'bout Willis?