This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Scranton chapter.
sometimes i like to walk around in your shoes
but then i remember to know better than to symapthise with you.
my mind is like the tides with its ebbs and flows
i want to give in. it floods
i want to make you beg. it recedes
constantly shifting around to find the middle ground between compliancy and obstinacy
but i am beginning to believe that it does not exist.
what am i but another charm on your bracelet, only to toss away when i lose my shine?
i know why my heart beats and bleeds and yours doesn’t.
because if you listen close you’ll realise
the only sound is the whirring of machines