I get really confused so I resort to writing
irony is when they tear a part of you, little by little each day, and then they find the audacity to call you incomplete
sometimes I wish I could rip my heart into pieces, just to try and understand why you like doing it so often
I'm not afraid okay? I'm terrified. I don't want to be as fragile as a rose, I want to be as free as a though. But how can I set my soul free when , my ribs are caged?