Rain pours down on my windshield in rhythmic chaos.
My wipers working aimlessly, failing to better my vision.
My world is filled with little noises all coming together to form the pounding in my head.
Yet I keep on driving.
Following the road until it leads me to an overpass.
I venture under and although I am still moving the world is standing still.
Everything is quite if only for a second.
Until I venture back into the storm
and the chaos begins again.
YOU ARE READING
Painted Walls
PoetryA collection of poems dating from 2013-2023. This is the artistic representation of my life and my struggles with mental illness. A romanticized synopsis of what it means to be a teen trying to find where they belong and who they are supposed to be...
