Falling.

Waiting for the moment when someone catches you and embraces you in a warm manner.

But that moment doesn’t come.

You’re left struggling.

You’re left to pick up the pieces and drag yourself up to the task of brushing away the hurt, the confusion.

Pain.

The people surrounding you, influencing you are willing to let you crumble into dust, crumble into a position of no comfort, of no love.

The niggling feeling inside of you.

Like little mice are tearing away at your flesh, and dropping them onto the floor to be tramapled by unsuspecting feet.

Hurt.

The consequences of allowing the toxicity to weave it’s way through your body.

The poisonous attitudes that dance around minds, that dance around hearts.

Twisting, turning, hurting, teasing.

The fake friends.

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