Nothing new to write
It's the same every night
Mine and my mind's endless fight
For control
For balance
Can we ever have it?
Once so calm
Now, parallel to a catastrophic bomb
I'm scattering to collect my pieces
Reclaiming them from my demons
One day, I will escape
It will never be too late
For a smile to find meaning again
Losing all reason to ever pretend.
YOU ARE READING
Idiosyncrasies of an Introvert
Poetry{COMPLETE} Poetry from the ill mind ❝Her heart is played like well worn strings In her eyes the sadness sings Of one who was destined for better things.❞ © Lang Leav
