Seems like everyone's hearts reside right next to bitterness.
People are so cruel.
What ever happened to sticking to the golden rule?
Negativity, I don't need that.
Because life's too short.
I only want to neighbor myself with those who,
Or at least inquire similar desires.
Because it's more to life than continuously making enemies.
So I get out some paper and a pen,
Maybe scribble down a few similes.
Because this writing thing is all I can rely on.
I've been me for so long and still don't know who I am.
The voices inside my head happen to be my only friends.
I'm internally bleeding.
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