unspoken words

and i hear the whispers, and i understand.

dearprongs:

that’s the beauty of life
everybody is tragic
from bleeding wrists, to dry tears
from broken hearts
and endless wishes,
shattered hopes and hollow echoes,
of the haunting past,
of the frightening future.
we are both flawed, you and i
to the strips of our bones
and so that’s what we both want
i think,
someone to save us
from ourselves