the miserable life of a miserable teenager

tw flies



I guess they know, what we don’t. Attracted by the mess of my full rotting plates.

They’re feeding well, while I don’t know if

I could say the same.

I close my eyes to rest

and they feed on my sad face.

“I’m not dead.”

I mumble as they chew on my eyelashes. This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

It’s no use, they know.

They know I’m a corpse in the making.

They know, what you don’t.


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