Throw it to the wall and hope it sticks. But each time, it repels and I’m sick. Each time, I am pained by what I have picked. Lord, why...

To whom this may concern, My heart, again, it learns - It’s not the pain torturing me, but the battle scars I’ve earned. I see memories...

The world has a red tint from the blood in my eyes. Polarizing thoughts that I try to humanize. Like - when I see a baby, I tune out the...