I see you
not picking up after yourself. Leaving hearts and bodies in your selfish wake. You take and take until they weep themselves to sleep while you curl up in a bed you claim to have never made. Smoke and mirrors throw shade at the shame you should inherently carry. Oh, do be wary, for time has a method and a madness for empty souls like the one absent from your skull. Karma comes, and karma hulls the abhorrant when least expected. So, say your prayers before laying your empty-souled head in that rented bed you claim to have never made.
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AuthorMolly Roland is a writer by nature, and she enjoys stepping over the invisible lines society loves to draw. Categories |