Suicide blonde haunts me as my eyes burn red with anger.
Why can't i be happy?
Why can't i live under a permanent sun, where i don't have 2 horsemen on my back pushing me forward in the direction they want.
Im living in a personal hell where everything i see is in colour and i can admire things in their beauty, but all i can feel and touch is black and white, cold and solid.
The warmth that cascades down my cheeks reminds me of what i strive not to be.
In my head there are pictures of laughter and colour and rainbows and turets.
In my heart there is nothing, the puncture wound cupid shot has let leak all the substance within me.
Now all i am is a shell.
I am so desperatly trying to be that girl, the one who matches my personality but all i seem to do is get further and further away.
Im lost in my selfish self sinking in my own venom.
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