sodapop3453

Deep inside. It is my fault that you're with her. But it isn't my fault. No. It's your fault. It is your fault that you left me, left me to die. Out in this wilderness between the broken and the living. Seeing you with her? Causes glass to shard an break into a million pieces. Like a block of ice in a blender. Like a paper in a shredder. Or like a heart getting stabbed in the front by someone you love. Because stabbing it in the back wouldn't allow you to see the pain on their face. Would it? You only want the one you swore you love, to feel the pain that you couldn't feel when you left me. Am I correct? It was both of our faults but you're

A broken soul has no clue how many times a song has played. One loses track, One doesn't notice, And one doesn't care. That the one a song being played could destroy or help one's soul. And it plays in the head like a CD on repeat. Over. And over. And over again. Not a clue of what it is they have been listening to. For how long? Nobody seems to know. Minutes, Hours, Days, Weeks, Months, Years, Or even decades. We just know that it is helping us get through the one problem that everyone has. The one called "Life".

In a person art, You can see a million things. The primary one being emotion. You can see the pain it, Or the sorrow. Like a flower dying the day after it was planted.