I leave my door open at night
to let in that minuscule bit of light,
to stop all things that live to cause fear,
to drown out sound so I can't hear
all the voices in my head
and all the words that they've said.
A sliver of hope, a sliver of light,
I leave my door open at night.
YOU ARE READING
The Things We Don't Talk About
Poetry***Trigger Warning: Mental health, mental illness, eating disorders, suicidal ideation, self-harm*** A collection of poems delving into the dark side of the human experience. From high highs to low lows, emotion can be intense. And this collection s...
