Give Me More
I'm such a mess, I'm tired
so sick, so dead inside
My pills are out to get me
And there's nowhere left to hide
I turned into an angel
and flew from all my pain
But my wings were made of paper
and I fell down with the rain
About the Creator
Vivi Vanille
Been writing poetry since i was 11 about how sad I am (though I exaggerated a lot) and the teachers were like *Good job girl, A+" Meanwhile I'm writing about different ways to commit suicide. Best teachers rite dere.
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