How can I write when I can't even speak my words correctly?
How can I feel the rhythm of the piece while my bones and thoughts quiver?
There's nothing that is causing the pain when I look into the mirror.
There is nothing I can see that will put the pieces of me back together.
Perfectly, my blood flows through my veins,
Yet I can't seem to reason with the reflection in the silver.
I should feel less pressure, less blue within.
But yet all I dream is the ending again,
I'm proud of how far I've got,
I'm proud of me moving on and on.
—
But my demons travel with me.
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And my shadow has learned to walk in front of me.
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When will I marry myself again, when will I walk and carry my weight again?
Will I ever pass these feelings for something better?
Will I be able to drive fast, with the wind blowing in my hair, without a doubt in my mind that I deserve well, and to be cared for?
Will I ever look in the mirror and be excited for tomorrow? To see what daylight brings and takes away?
Or am I damned for life, begging myself to breath, attempting to succumb to the sadness each day?
CZYTASZ
Thoughts Of Me, Sorry.
PoezjaJust everyday, unconventional, uplifting, relatable, sad writings. Take a journey through my head. **warning-may make you unconsciously slip into a corner alone, with sad music drowning you through your headphones**
