the miserable life of a miserable teenager
last sip
The baby pictures that stare me down.
Clinging onto any part of me I can find.
Hard to see through the lies.
And depression.
Who was she?
She loved colours, not just black.
She did her schoolwork, not even rushed. Content © NôvelDrama.Org.
She smiled, not even out of curtesy.
She hoped, not just for death.
God, I miss her.
There’s an unbreakable lock on her cage.
No matter how hard I try,
I’m only left with the last sip of myself.
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