Reality.
Learn more about other poetry terms
Dear Future nobody,
Living off your parents crumbs
You call that life
I call that sad
You had it, it was there
Now it's gone
I do not have a virgin heart..
It’s been fucked with,
And torn apart.
My heart is a prostitute,
Getting payed with love-filled lies.
My Virgin body isn’t yet caught up.
I gave all that was inside of me,
