It's amazing how alone, really is alone.
Trying to hope...
So sick with bronchitis, strep throat, diverticulosis, anxiety, depression.
I wonder why.
Why.
Why.
I wonder.
Such vivid loneliness.
Palatable.
Tangible.
Painful.
Aching in my soul,
coursing through my blood
and ripping through my mind.
Caring was the first mistake.
Dreaming was just losing perspective
and pretending,
merely pretending
there was more than it seemed.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
You Know...
Labels:
bad poetry,
bronchitis,
depressed,
Depression,
diverticulosis,
Pain,
Sick,
strep throat,
Stupid Poetry
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment