social suicide.
sometimes it's hard for me to breatheas i sleep away my incandescent dreams.
wake up, rash and irrational as i
head off towards the bathroom,
splashing the mother earth's tears on my face and yet,
still wondering,
why it's so hard for me to breathe.
bite my lower lip; try to hide a secret.
spend close to an hour
looking for clothes
vs.
fixing my hair.
mumbling incoherant words, treading downstairs,
while being told to stop talking to myself.
guess i'll skip breakfast and head for hell.
highschool, of course;
nine periods filled with
drama, cuties, dummies, and work.
hope to catch that cutie's eye, while trying to be "discreet".
obviously, failing miserably.
couple more hours soon pass by,
thank the gods that the day is finally over.
lie safe in bed,
but than remember the same crap you have to
put up with the next day.
and yet, somehow,
i still don't know why it's hard for me to breathe..
witten by: sahina-lydia of [516] new york.
steal, and she will make sure you never live to see another day.
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