Moments that make up my life
seem to be empty
echoes of my own self loathing
plague me
they say I'm a fool
I feel the black dog barking at my door
persistent pain persistent voices
telling me I'm all wrong
a perfect isolation that tortures me everyday
the self scars upon my arm
remenants of pain that feels relieving
I speak to people, I feel detached
'normalcy' seems like bullshit
is it me or am I going mad
is it me or are they just full of it
by Daniel Galloway
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts For The Lonesome
PoetryThis is part three of my "thoughts" series. Tale No One (Part 1) Thoughts Before Bed (Part 2) Thoughts for the lonesome (Part 3) No need to read them in order, just read what suits you best. Thanks for reading. Harry
