naminexkeroppi

we all have hearts that are strofoam cups and people keep picking and picking at them until there's just a bunch of pieces on the floor and who wants to clean up a mess like that? are we definied by our creativity, or lack of? am i nothing but a puzzle piece meant to be rearranged and maimed just so i fit? why must the fragile species of the human race keep turning our own hands against us? we hurt ourselves so others can't, but who's winning that war, us or our fears? i am less than you because i'm more than you. the battles we fight to stay sane only make us crazier and we can fight our inner demons alone but they'll just invite fr