The clock struck 12.
Forcing yours against mine.
Held me close until he came.
Unaware of this burden, you were so unashamed.
I forget my hurt and laughed at my pain.
You diminished the burdened memories I fought everyday.
Soft yet so rough.
Allayed yet so so wrong.
I found momentary happiness
I never knew how much a smile could burn
He is not real.
He is made up.
Someone fabricated to fulfill this fake pride so many try to embody.
He does it so well keeping society pleased.
Capable of bringing laughter to anyone, fueling their flame for passion and dreams.
His heart is cold. The depth of it is so low; his stomach can hardly hold the pain.
Where is his passion?
Where is his fuel?
It is dying as he continues to ignore what once was.
There are three people present.
The Bold one you see.
The one Suffering from low self esteem.
And the Suppressed Charismatic and Courageous one.
Who’s death is not too far off if not set free.
Sticks, Stones, and Lies.
Words have a way of puncturing our hearts, opening up our stomachs, and igniting a flame that can burn for years.
There is a difference between having a preference and completely disregarding an entire race.
I wanna sneak pictures of you while you sleep.
Send them to you randomly, and tell you how beautiful you are to me
Why consume your mind over what is non existant? Stop letting what could have or what may have restrain you from achieving the potential for greatness that lies in store.