So here’s something that I wrote quite a while ago. But.. it’s still relevant. To me at least.


I’m just too far away from being okay
So that I can let myself be what you need
I’m starting to wither as you feed

Troubles come my way and I start to fray
When I try to patch your wounds, your broken parts
Maybe for people like us there are extra-hearts?

When there is no just, how are you supposed to trust
Love not to make you shatter and bruise
Do I really want devotion in the form of abuse?

A dagger against my wrist, could you resist
Or much too tempted to let me bleed?
But when I’m used up, how will you feed?

Copyright: Linnéa B


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