My life is rotting like a flower.
A flower may rotting and still smell sweet.
My bestfriends want to hurt themselves.
So do i.I.
Yet I have to act fine.
Im good at it.
Because when people make me "happy"
I cant stop.
Like I can't stop hurting me
6 days 17 hours since.
Keep me away from pencils.
But then how will I write?
Im rotting like a flower.
But all you can see is the sweetness of my smell
R...
