You. I hate rhyme schemes.
Hollow I'm waiting for you to text me, Or Facebook me, Or tweet me. But you can't because you're dead.
Dead At 16 I feel numb. I feel like I can't feel.
C.P.B Somedays I want to cut. I think it's because I have so much inside me. I have so much turmoil. So many feelings of grief. And loss. And the fact you were only sixteen. The fact that God is a greedy whore. And if I take that blade And bring it down, The blood I shed, Will cover up the blood, You lost. The #life you lost.
Hot And Cold The Sun, The moon, The you, The me, We are all opposites you see, But somehow we create, a beautiful piece of hate.
