the flourishing halos of sun light look like little butterflies on your lashes
What are we, what are we doing? What are we, what are we becoming? I don’t like what I see Your eyes still bleed, and as much as I hope that we will change I know that its not going to be the same Bleeding like your eyes that night, Holding on to pretend we’re like we were before, and I will never see those eyes smile again But I can hope and I can dream of better days, wasting and wasting...
so upset/angry that i don’t even know how to write it down