Eggshells

I’m just jotting down thoughts in order to use this as something to expound upon further at a later time.

Walking on eggshells has begun to open up wounds that cannot heal.

Happiness is seeping away with each and every cut to the core.

If home is where the heart is then what happens when your home is where hell lives?

What if you’ve known nothing else and don’t know which way to turn on your own?

Laughter twisted and turned into an offense that will later be used against me as though there was malice in my excitement.

Nostalgia slowly slipping away, the force that made me fight for what had been.

A shell left with not much left inside to break.

How long until all that I was is no longer there to be seen?