I have a way of always questioning myself.
Wondering why I did what I did.
Thinking that I made a bad choice,
Even if it was the only choice I had.
I live in yesterday and the day before that.
And it's tearing me apart.
My present is spent hurting over my past.
And when I'm not looking back in worrying about tomorrow.
It's not way to live honestly.
But I can't seem to stop.
1 and 00 words on the page from bottom to top.
Yet the thoughts just won't stop.
I guess 100 words is all I got.
YOU ARE READING
The End Of The RoadPoetry
Poetry for the dead and dying. For the ones just done trying. Here's the words for you. It's a bloody dream come true. I can't promise it'll help you get through. But if your mind is dark It'll leave its mark It'll make your bleeding heart Just t...