stab wound.

in this crowded room, this Loud room. where friends are laughing, talking. standing there in the corner, with your glossy eyes roaming the room, wanting to run, but staying hoping that someone will walk up to you. but you knew that won't happen dear. they say you're funny, then why were you breaking down the second you stepped into your home? if you're so attractive, why do you sleep alone at night?, clinging onto a pillow, imagining someone. if you're so intelligent, why are you on your own? hopeless, is what you feel, seeking for comfort but only giving. but never receiving.