And when everyone is gone, I sit down to cut you out of your photographs and paste it next to mine. I have made a whole album now, it works better than those sleeping pills.
This girl, I met next door, yesterday. Broken and drunk. In bed, she moaned like a cry in agony and ended up hurting herself. The cigrattes never left her fingers, she would look directly into my eyes making me uncomfortable.The instruments in her wooden shelf were, so that men can hurt her every night. Her pain cannot be shared, so she gave them a reason behind her screams. None of those were for me. According to her I am emotionally withdrawn and not in the state of mind to harm her. I was her mirror.
Why is it like this? Why I cannot scream even when my inner self is burdened by my existence? But OK, things are better than before. I want to sleep today and I will, without that album, not because you are out of my head, but because for first time in so many years someone shared my silence.
#story
