I often think of my inspirations, or my lack thereof, and I wonder why I keep coming back to this place.

You are no longer a safe haven for me, you remind me of things they have forgotten about, you keep me trapped.

I have been confined by these lines for more than a decade now.

Measly years that have taught me nothing but to turn my turmoil into compositions. A thin slice of mahogany keeping it together maybe, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

What have I done that’s changed?

That pink hair won’t make you look any happier darling. Wearing your heart on your sleeve won’t cover those scars. All that nail polish rusts over, crimson waiting to bleed out; your nail beds scuttling along the floors.

You have done nothing to change.

You still cling onto hope that someone will want you- you don’t even want yourself. You cower when you look in the mirror, see those sunken emeralds pleading back at you. Those freckles coming in tenfold now- maybe that comes with age?

But you, you didn’t even think you’d live to see this age, hmm?

Yet here you are. Imprisoned by your same creations, battling those same thoughts.



You remember everything darling

That shall be your downfall






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