|
|
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
I rock back and forth
Sitting in the hidden corner
Biting my knees
Holding back sobs
And trying to hold in the tears.
But they slide down my face anyway
And crash onto my jeans
Leaving dark wet splotches.
How many times must it come to this,
Hating all beauty
And wanting to die.