my pain begins with me. it ends with my limits. my flaws define me while my friends refined me. yet the ever present pain tears me upside-down and sideways. i hate the pain i've grown to love. my chest feels hollow and my will is dead. i am like changing leaves. preety, but soon dead. still, i smile

painkillers are better than kisses.
because the kind of pain that aches the most becomes smuthered and smeared by ignorant lips. i'll have a painkiller anyday to numb my body away from my mind. but i don't take pills