at war with many things
10 июля 2017 г., 09:42
I want to insult. And stab. And roar. And tear apart.
I’m bitter. And angry. And sad. I’m in the trap.
So much for me being on guard.
So much for me starting from scrap.
I’m broken – not only inside. Last year I finally died.
And am dying still. I failed, but honestly tried.
So much for the family pride.
So much for "We’re all on your side".
There’s no sides. No battles. No more. I swore.
Just open that creaking door. Don’t scoul.
So much for the silence war.
I’m furious. Hear me howl.
