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VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANCE
Private Notes
Private Notes
Notes
Buoyant are the thoughts that I refuse to share with anyone
Yet they can't help but to unravel further and further
How many calories of fat can one push out of that sharpening hole in their mind?
Your trauma shapes you, molds you
With its hands made out of shadows that cut too deep
Out of silhouettes and highlights that highlight what you don't want to be seen
I'm not in control, I accept that control is an illusion
Whoever runs the world
They, he, him, she, her
Pulling on all of our strings
The end goal of course
is reducing us to specks of dust
Tossing us away like that uneaten crust
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