They say I am crazy, every time.
Every time I hear words emerging in the grime.
They are real, they are fake.
It sounds so real, for goodness sake.
None of my senses even sense anymore.
Depressed in the dark again, blood seeping from my core.
I believed him, that things would change for the better.
Instead, I lay here feeling alone, and I just let her.
Let her take over my life again,oh make it stop.
This whole mission has become a flop.
A mission, to attempt at love again, with him.
Why do I feel regret. I went out on a limb.
You left me alone, here, just like before.
Why do I keep hearing you calling me a whore.
Lost, lost in this dimension of drama that is supposedly not real.
Nobody, absolutely nobody, knows the loneliness I feel.
About the Creator
aysha valenzuela
Hello I live in the desert hiding in the shade from the beautiful powerful sun in az. I’ve lived all over southwest I dig experiences meeting new peeps and music is life. I am a nomad,I go where the wind takes me I’mhoping it blows me east.
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Two Wrinkles In Time
It is pointless to run, my darling, because sixty seconds ago, I will kill you. My blade will have sliced reality open right in front of you. It will have first pierced it as it would a bed sheet left hanging to dry, flapping in the wind on a Sunday afternoon. But the metal will have drawn a line in the air that the ghostly tear will have followed. Then I, La Dyablès, machete firmly in hand, will have emerged from what your mind, at the time, could only interpret as the other side of here—whatever that means to you. I know. I have seen that look on the faces of countless unlucky… clients. You will not have been the first nor the last to try and reneg on a riches for soul contract only to present this visage to me when I come to collect.
By Lily Séjor4 days ago in Fiction
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