Lonely is the girl so sad she cries in her sleep. Lonely is the double, marble vanity. Lonely is the rotten leftovers. Lonely in her thoughts. Lonely in her pain. Lonely in her suffering. Alone, in grief. If no one is around to listen, does she make a sound?
Published by RB
I am a fragmented figment of our imagination. I do not exist. The ideas expressed in this blog may or may not reflect our actual opinions. View all posts by RB