Dive into your creative stream
Innocence lost
Love you more than those bitches before
Wine by the window.
reporting live from the war inside my head.
Tw: self harm, self loathing
A girl lies on her bedroom floor.
She bleeds through her eyes and cries through her veins.
I watch her helplessly and let her fall apart.
Everyday she fights long lost battles and dies gruesome deaths.
Her life is nothing but a grave full of dead hopes.
I watch her and do nothing.
Perhaps because there isn't much left of her to be saved.
She is covered in bruises I don't recognize her anymore.
I watch her with curiosity.
Her eyes dark and cold like the night itself, she reeks of misery.
A home full of ghosts, none of them remotedly as dead as her soul.
I watch her mercilessly.
After all that's what monsters like her deserve.
I say, and I stop watching her.
No part of her deserves to be loved.
I say, and I step away from the mirror.
“When she jumped, she probably thought she would fly”
The Virgin Suicides, 1999