creative works, Poetry


The world is an ugly place full of scars and open wounds.
A world that seems to beat you to the ground every chance it gets.
And when I was fourteen, this cruel world was really getting to me.
There were days I wanted to stop breathing
There were nights I would beg not to wake up in the morning. There were moments I wanted to see myself bleed

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creative works, Poetry

That Island

getting over someone by liking someone else is like being lost at sea for months and finally coming upon a deserted island.

you see the island as your paradise, finally, you will get land, you will get stability, but once you’re there, you realise there is nothing for you

because that island doesn’t have her eyes. it doesn’t have her laugh or her wit. it doesn’t have the feeling of home that she always carries

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