It makes me feel
lost, she replied,
and considered it.
Like I'm nowhere,
and neither is she,
but we're not
nowhere together.
Maybe there's
seperate nowheres.
She frowned, a
furrow knitting
her brow. I
see the desperation,
she comments,
quieter. The hopelessness.
Delapitated, though
young. She's young,
hopeless, and lost.
She's everyone on
the inside.