you like hail.
your bones ache with every cry --
like a storm that cannot stop.
words you thought would heal
becomes gale
that slits your lips and cuts your heart,
a flood past an abandoned park with
that tree that brims with life;
that tree he promised was yours and his,
marked with the gashes of his knife,
your knife which now indent your wrists.
---
i've been slacking in my writing.
ugh, A' levels drain the inspiration right out of me.
and why am i falling behind on my Disgrace essays?!
i think i will wake up at 8 tomorrow so i can exercise early and start studying earlier.
my thoughts are clearly frazzled.
i need to start writing in a more sophisticated fashion.
goodnight.
burn, burned, burnt.
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