The Series of Unfortunate Events

We are people with hearts that are roses, 

withering away from our sunlight,

drowning in the rains of our sadness.


He broke my heart.


We are people with lungs filled with cigarette smoke,

slowly suffocating us,

choking us up.


You still take my breath away.


We are people that have a brain with weed's 

roots inside,

confusing us,

trapping us.


I still listen to my heart instead of my mind.


We are people with thorns in our stomach,

tearing us up,

cutting us deep inside.


I still get butterflies in my stomach when i see you.


We are people with eyes

that hold the seas in them,

blinding us,

drowning us.


I still cry over you.


We are people with ribs like cages,

protecting our hearts,

trusting nobody.


After what you did to me i can't let anybody inside.


We are people with skeletons that are slowly dying,

we let him dig his roots deep inside of us.


Why did i love him?

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