Posted in poetry, Uncategorized

Big Thoughts for little worries.

Who are we,
and what am I,
the thoughts of broken promises,
that i made upon my self

Trying and failing,
the Hills turn to glass.
as i slip then i slide,
only to wind up on my ass.

The towering inferno,
that is my depression.
Makes a lovely little nest,
for me to collect all my problems in,
and treat them like they’er guest.

Who are we,
and what am I?
The emptiness of my chest,
is drowned out only by the screaming,
coming from my head.

 

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