I hide here in my world, behind closed doors. My soul trapped in a body I hate with thoughts I wish I could erase.

My misery stretches beyond anything this world could fix.

It’s a sadness so deep I drown myself in it everyday, over and over.

Your apology is eight years too late I want to say, but I don’t. I tell you it’s okay. You ask me if I hate you, I reply that I don’t. Why would I. You were only such a little fragment of all the unfortunate things to happen.

I was young and naive, which was your excuse?