Caught up in a world that’s ugly some days good most days bad, sh*t be fucked up but it is what it is ,different faces different personalities one day they f*ck with me next day they don’t, why must this world be so twisted people ain’t who they portrayed to be. A twisted soul is eager to feed on the week bring you down make you feel bad, a twisted soul hold onto your kindness like leverage they know all the ways to hurt but only a week soul can’t be tamed, as I pour my heart out and flood the pillow with my remorse I am the week soul I find it so easy to fall for these traps, it is like a magnet that is pulling me deeper into the darkness. No control over my thoughts I am the week soul I try to break free but the shackles are tired from my neck to my feet I am grounded but not in a good way I try and escape I try to run but there’s no hiding from a twisted soul, they say I have two personalities but in all reality I am begging to be free unseen, unheard nobody even knows.The darkness in my head fully takes over when I’m drowning in sorrow the darkness is a part of me do I unleash it or maybe I can tame it, most days she is gone but on those days it’s like I am the host my mind and my soul is detached from my body sorry if I get out of character sorry if I seemed lost a twisted soul is me.
BY Dyshania Augustine
