Lost in the echo

All I ever wanted was someone to write for

Someone to write about

Someone who appreciates what I do

Someone who cherishes it

Someone who has proof of my love for them in the pages that they hold in their hands

Someone who doesn’t want me to break the habit

Someone who would bleed for me if I ever ran out of ink

But all I have is myself

Alone in a forest of scarred trees

Lost in the echo of my own voice

One comment

  1. Your words always seem to capture a lot of what I feel, as well as much of what I have felt. It’s almost like reading my own thoughts out aloud.

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