Sometimes the psyches fly on their own, be careful not to step on them. Thread softly so your feet don't get cut by the glass. The river flows gently on their veins, but their screams echo through your head. These are the flowers for the beauty in death.
I'm on my bed right now, chatting with my bf over the internet, and just think on how tired I am every day, wether I work or not.
and yet, people expect even more of me, and I don't know how to comply.
I guess I'm just not myself anymore, just needed to explain why I haven't posted as much lately.