But What.

Fiction peeps.

Sugar is sweet, but the taste is bitter.

He has a name, but you don’t care.

You need it, but it’s wrong.

It’s just a taste, but he resists.

He cries, but you’re not sorry.

Tears are salty, but you’re already lost.

He trembles, but you don’t comfort.

He struggles, but you’re stronger.

He breaks free, but you grip harder.

He runs, but you’re faster.

He falls, but you just stand over him.

He curls inward, but you are calm.

You laugh, but it’s malicious.

He looks up, but he’s scared.

He tries to scream, but he’s mute.

He tries to see, but it turns black.

He wakes up, but it’s different.

He’s clean, but feels dirty.

He tries to forget, but it haunts him.

He is surrounded, but he is alone.

He is broken, but no one can see.

The pieces are all there, but they’re mixed up.

Merely shattered, but beyond repair.

He thinks of the end, but you’re there.

He needs you, but he can’t see it.

He cries, but you hear.

He sobs, but you only pull him closer.

He breaks down, but you tighten the embrace.

He hates himself, but you love him.