Winter has come! It's waving at my window.
Shards of burning ice reflecting my sorrow.
Sharp and cold as a dead person's body.
Freezing daggers you could never ever flee.
The icy wind whispering the tales of my defeat.
Enemies so wicked, they could kill you in a beat.
You can hide , you can run, but you can never fight back.
The king who sits the throne surreptitiously attacks.
As I sit and let the memories do their work;
I list them one by one and then put 'em in a book.
They manipulate the narrative. You could never really tell
How effortlessly they cast this kind of spell.
Branded with strange symbols it will render you insane.
No ice in this world could numb this kind of pain.
I won't bite, I won't fight but I will tell you this
The next time they strike, they'll embarrassingly miss.
YOU ARE READING
Journal of a Broken Person
RandomThis is a collection of my late night journal entries as I navigate through the terrible things that people have done to me. This also contains conversations with myself as I wallow in self-loathing for all the things I want it to be but can't seem...
