Mistakes
I'm sitting by the fridge and my shirt is soaked in tears my back is cold and my cheeks are red and I'm choking back a "please come help" because i know no one really cares because when you're a screw up life is fair and karma moves away your chair and pain is temporary but so is a century and crying just gets divided into decades of war and love-torn memories of a childhood home retold to someone who you don't even know and "sorry" grows old like bread turns to mold until you get poisoned.
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