Boundaries.
Brackets.
After being through the fire, you no longer feel the three degree burns that once made you screech in agony.
Rain.
Patter.
Pitter.
The soul is what is not seen, the heart is no longer sweet, it's bitter. The eyes that once calmed me, make me want to die.
Broken.
Shattered.
Choked
Battered.
The Abuse is my friend. The Depression is a friend of Misery and of misery? Company.
I can't do this anymore.
Send help...
💀Bella Beba💀
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