My days blur into each other,
Like ink smudged on paper,
Nights stretch long and heavy,
Shadows pooling under tired eyes.
They say the light has dimmed in me.
Perhaps it has.
I linger in bed,
Draped in exhaustion,
Nights drench in quiet sobs,
They say I no longer reach out.
Perhaps I don't.
Each dawn feels like a weight,
Every dusk, an endless ache,
They say I wear sleeplessness like a mask.
Perhaps I do.
They say I am burning out.
Perhaps I am.
YOU ARE READING
Trapped in my own head
PoetryShe is an outcast. She finds it easier to express what she feels in the form of writing. Whether it is poems, letters or long texts. These are poems that she writes trying to describe how it feels to live with certain mental health issues, in a worl...
