they never could fit in with her kind , she writes sonnets &. soliloquies with lies while they litter their bedroom floor with torn paper &. wretched hearts. her words are of the sweet world &. cigarette stains on pretty hearts while theirs are childish grasps at the overwhelming urge to be something. ❝ i remembered to put in soy milk this time , though its hot sorry. ❞ they play at god only to be sorely disappointed at the end of the day while she is touching the heavens. they’ve tossed aside their hopes for track shoes , running away from all they’ve tried to do &. leaving their self-doubt to race circles around their skull. ❝ tell me about the job you pulled off , i gotta know. ❞
( ❤ / @hcneyhearted )