Cameoanew1

and this is where we bury our hearts, between self-defeating personality disorders and burnt bridges and midnight ramblings we promise ourselves aren’t true; embedding our memories in forsaken homes like it is a conscious decision to shed our wings (reptiles don’t fly) and maybe I am the monster of every myth: wide-eyed and jagged toothed and looking to regain a piece of myself the world borrowed, many moons ago as I falter and stumble over my own unaware feet, wreaking havoc, reeking of self-acquittal-- all I ever wanted to do was belong. dreams are flaws much like the hearts we flaunt on our sleeves, and I seem to have len