Пещера монстров

I miss who everyone once were, including myself

I hate the hoes I'm sad about

I'm nothing but a broken heart hidden behind a mad face.

Yayy welcome back king

The way his heart pounds inside his chest, barely touching his bones, disgusts him.

He can understand what it feels like for people to hate him, but loving him ? feels like seeing frogs fly.

He was like a cold, thin blanket trying to warm people up. A dirty stray cat tired enough to avoid showering. Forgets to eat or to speak. Overthinking or underthinking. Even feeling the skin and teeth feels uncomfortable.

I wish people stop acting like they know me.

I know it's bad when I even act alright around myself