The weeks are getting shorter all the time.
Each one less memorable than the last
Because the grey is getting thicker.
With every passing day
It becomes progressively more grey.
Not the light and fluffy kind
But the wan yet dark kind
That eats away
At every feeling
Every feeling
Till there's nothing left
But the decay left
From unjust judges
That took everything and all my stuff.
At least there's still life
Yet that's what's getting shorter all the time.
I can't fucking stand to stay in that hell.
So I drink and hope the liquid fills the hole
Of where my everything used to be.
The side effects?
It shortens my weeks.
But what the hell even is my life?
When I have nothing left inside.
It's not worth living, and sometimes I'd rather die.
At least with the drink
I can forget all that
And just suffer
The shortening
Of weeks.
A/N: This isn't much how I currently feel. Just reminiscing of a time when I was in a much darker place.
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Pandora's Box
PoetryA collection of poetry inspired by everyday life, love, pain and heartbreak. Basically my thoughts and reflections. Each poem, a reflection of either the words in my heart, the words in my mind, or the words on my tongue. Almost always though, they'...
