I think of my story and I weep, that day was the end of every peaceful sleep constantly awake, daydreaming your name on the tip of my tongue, always screaming people always want to hear my story as if hearing is some kind of glory they say “but that’s just what boys do.” and again “but that’s just what boys do.” i bet i wouldn’t have to explain myself if it was him it had happened to all my hopes and dreams are now astray by this never ending nightmare in my way
