I had a summer depression.
Sleep wasn't a time to rest
It was my escape.
I would escape myself as long as I could.
It was all I would do.
It felt like the only thing I could do.
All I can do is hide from my war
Because I can't bare to listen to the explosions.
The only fault to my logic
Is after I must stare at all the damage my war created.
I'm still wondering why my war started.
I'm still wondering how I can fix the damage.
I'm still wondering how I can stop the bombs.
YOU ARE READING
Me Working Through It
PoetryJust a bunch of poems I write to help get through life. You can see my journey through anxiety, friendships, relationships, sexuality confusion, family nonsense and depression. You might relate. I love comments (including grammar corrections). I do...
