the miserable life of a miserable teenager

Clinging onto any part of me I can find.

Hard to see through the lies.

And depression. Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

Who was she?

She loved colours, not just black.

She did her schoolwork, not even rushed.

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.