Select a topic to start reading.
3 days ago · Poetry
All the world's a stage, / And all the men and women merely players
Comments have been disabled by the author
i have become unable to identify a purpose for my body. it seems to be for me to starve and cut myself. my body is a vestal for my illness. i am an amalgama...
of all the lies i have ever lived, my favourite was you and i. we were such a perfect mess. such a beautiful lie. the type that you tell in order to save someon...