the miserable life of a miserable teenager

Clinging onto any part of me I can find.

Hard to see through the lies.

And depression.

Who was she?

She loved colours, not just black.

She did her schoolwork, not even rushed. Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

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.