i really do
want to write
about the beauties
of my world
and the songs
that would sing
in my heart
but all those
things
the sights
the smells
the thoughts
they are underground
in a bunker
that i like
to call
undiagnosed
depressive symptoms.
i am the
seeker in
a game of
hide and seek
i did not ask
to play.
they come back
sometimes
for short periods
they are visitors
and i am
a prisoner.
i can be happy
i don't always
chose to be like this
you have to
understand
i do chose this
sometimes
and i'm not
trying hurt you
i'm trying to
hurt myself.
i don't know why
sometimes i think
it might make me
feel something
because it's better
than feeling nothing
i guess.
YOU ARE READING
flecks of charisma
Poetry(old bad poetry don't read pls ahhh) flecks of charisma is a quintessential guide to not knowing how you're feeling, not knowing how to deal with it, but knowing how to adjust your life around it. some days are tough and some days can elongate into...
