these are the last days of september
and i'm sad again
because i can't remember
how the story ends
these are the last days of september
and aren't they the best?
is what i will say in october
fifteen years past
what if instead we all died? || a recent drawing i made
i should have expected
that when you left
you would do so with a cold glare in your eyes
and a lie balanced on your tongue
who was i to think you would change?
after all
your favorite thing to do was lie to me
i care (or do i?)
i wrote something about the burden of concern and care, and how it'll never be enough, and it'll never compare to that one completely perfect person that is always haunting your actions. enjoy.