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Too much heart for a world that doesnβt know what to do with it.
I will forever be the problem in their story because i don't let people do whatever they want to me.
I told him about the darkness inside of me and he still looked at me like I was the sun.
Iβm not cold, I'm just tired of giving warmth to the wrong people.
I don't regret having a big heart but sometimes i just wonder if it was worth it because in the end it has never worked in my favor.
Repost from Deserted Garden
Maybe I'll never understand why, and maybe someday I'll stop searching for the answer
"I can turn you into poetry, but I cannot make you love me."
I'm only someone trying to make sense of the mess inside them.
I would rather spend my life watching the birds fly, than waste it wishing I had wings.
I could be happy, but something inside me always yearns for the familiar comfort of sadness.
I let people in, then they leave with pieces of me I'll never get back again.
