sometimes i begin to wonder why you're gone
and sometimes i pretend that it's not my fault,
because sometimes the images running through
my mind are too strong, and i want to kill them;
and sometimes, i have dreams of my younger self,
and sometimes i think daddy's locked away, and
other times i say mummy's not okay and we're all
f
a
l
l
apart, and sometimes
that is not okay,
but some times do not count,
because all-the-times are there to displace them,
until there is n o t h i n g left to remember
but mistakes, and e v e r y t h i n g to do
but fix them, again and again,
because they are on repeat inside my head.
YOU ARE READING
set free
Poetrya cluster of thoughts, hidden below the very folds of my subconscious