poem3

I'm dying underneath a heavy blanket of darkness. I'm choking on a pillow's right. I feel nothing more than raw and unmanufactured feelings in a fading lonestar's night.
I believe the wisest men when they say we are the bitches that make life hard. So what if we couldn't feel obligation, only indecision. This world would be 'chaos', like it was at the start...

...stripped and untouched.