grey





My life is in a bottle, everybody tries to read who I am.
They are on the outside. I only wish that someone knew
the contents within. I am afraid to let someone peer
inside, for I might pour out everything and never get back the solitude I once had.

Maybe I like staying in my carbonation, knowing only who I am (wishing I knew who I was).

Each tear that I cry fills my bottle more, and soon I am drowning. ( I cant swim). In reality I’m killing myself, one inch at a time. Why cant the water stop filling my soul?

that was a really good...
uh metaphor?
anyways that was awsome