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a broken emptinessThere's a girl sitting on my couch right now. She's got black eyes, blonde hair, and a very petite build. She looks so sad. The wall in front of her is grey, a mottled grey with specks of black. She's staring at it with those black, empty eyes of hers, and I can't see anything in their reflections. They're black holes, and they're blank, devoid of any emotion or feeling. She's holding a broken picture frame in her lap, a broken picture frame with no picture inside. A single tear rolls down her pale cheek, and falls unnoticed to land on her small, frail hands. I call her name but she doesn't answer. Something inside is broken, and I don't know how to fix it. Something inside is stretched too thin, too little butter scraped over too much bread. Something in that beautiful head is flawed, is torn to shreds, is missing that one essential ideal. She's sitting on my couch, she's looking at my wall, but there's no one inside. And you know the scariest thing?More Like This
That girl is me.
Sta.sh
