When love runs dry, what fuels us? Is it hatred coarsing through your body, thick and hot? Is it self medication, pills bitter sweet? Is it fear, driving us into oblivion? Ill give you an answer, a terrifying truth. When love runs dry, we sustain ourselves on pure pleasure. After all, we all have something that takes the pain away.
-Bryanna Lee J.
(I apoligize if this is a bad poem, or has many, or any mistakes at all. I wrote this pretty late, because I couldnt sleep and this was the outcome. Thank you for reading this far, if you're still with me. If you have any tips or anything youd like to say, please share.)