the miserable life of a miserable teenager

They’re feeding well, while I don’t know if

I could say the same.

I close my eyes to rest

and they feed on my sad face.

“I’m not dead.”

I mumble as they chew on my eyelashes.

It’s no use, they know.

They know I’m a corpse in the making. ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

They know, what you don’t.