They call me B i live on the streets between the tweakers and the hustlers but they still think I’m chique. He has me beat in a renegade track meet. Regret runs deep in a soul crushing sweep. Lies are the promises you never meant to keep. Close the door on what’s done before as i pray myself to sleep.
Posted byBrigitte af TransmorvicaPosted inUncategorized
Published by Brigitte af Transmorvica
interests include blogging personal improvement chromotherapy root work and herbal remedies shadow work talking about my past to heal and help others mental illness mental wellness pain spirituality working with our ancestors spell tutorials fashion makeup family dynamics healthy boundries discovering ones own inner beauty homelessness addiction recovery childhood wounds attatchment styles self care creative block art happiness inspiration hope depression movies music traumatic brain injury Joker and Harley Quinn love bipolar borderline coping strategies complex ptsd self harm stuffies pets little space quarentine books relationships ego View more posts