Line of Best Fit
These were the best words I could use to describe the feeling inside
I keep trying to shove this big thing into this little box in the back of my closet under my junk in a box with a key that can be thrown away...but I still hear it knocking at night. It keeps me up listening to the sounds of secrets that refuse to die, of feelings that feed on nothing more than crumbs of dreams that we tried hard to forget. There is no such thing as the perfect murder.
I keep trying to shove this big thing into this little box in the back of my closet under my junk in a box with a key that can be thrown away...but I still hear it knocking at night. It keeps me up listening to the sounds of secrets that refuse to die, of feelings that feed on nothing more than crumbs of dreams that we tried hard to forget. There is no such thing as the perfect murder.