Nothing was the same.
After he left me in disdain.
But it was.
Nothing really changed.
The wind blew softly.
And the leaves still began,
To change their colors.
Time continued.
The summers heat was still ripe,
Over our heads.
Nothing changed.
But me.
I had changed.
Not physically.
A mask I wore day by day.
For strangers and friends.
No.
Nothing changed.
Except for me on the inside.
I turned dead just like the fall leaves,
Welcoming a cold winter.
- Written 07/17/2020.
YOU ARE READING
Dim.
PoetryTired of trying to be everything. Trying to be perfect. Wrong paths and wrong people and missed opportunities. Am I letting my mental illness take over my life? A look into the mind of a BPD, Anxiety ridden woman. With no identity but her Panic. W...
