It’s forever November. I am hurting. You’re my medicine and my poison. It’s not working.
I cannot remember. The good times had. When the sun last rose. Now things are always bad.
The leaves have left. Everything is black. The beginning was the end of it all. The emotions I lack.
Something is wrong. I binge but I’m empty. Just a bucket wanting to be filled and emptied. Quick fixes so tempting.
I don’t trust you. But I don’t trust myself. I need you in my life so much. Is it good for my health?