I’m an architect
Of my own hell
Cuz even when you arrive
I will yell

Like sadness is marketed
Please send help
Where map is uncharted
Ignore the welp

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I’m not allowed to return to the temple
Make a way out of no way
Things are not very simple
The hills are unsafe
Likely things I will say
When we dig where we tremble

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Proof I live in hell. Send help.

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Copyright © 2025 Delia Ross. All rights reserved.

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Poetry forever @poeeternal

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I disassociated for five minutes and forgot TikTok was banned and uninstalled it and now I can’t get it back on my iPhone, but I did 30 minutes on the treadmill, 10 minutes on the rebounder and two hours doing a tai chi class

I mean so

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I could go live on my tablet maybe no

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Blog updates + poetry dropping at random (prob times you should be sleeping) (why aren’t you sleeping)

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