World War 3

You may view my life as perfect and I do too when I look at it from the outside. But in reality I view my world as a world war If something is perfect in my life I somehow make it look like an old decrepit dried up melting flower it looks and feels like an old abandon house waiting to be demolished to keep the underage kids away from smashing my already shattered windows and engraving anymore names to my wall of shame. "Greg was here" is written all over as if it were some kind of cult. Their digging their names into me to show off to the new comers that decided to explore my cave of disasters that they were once there. No one wants to be forgotten but in my world, I am.