The nerves are creeping in again,
Whispering sweet nothings as they do,
Promising they know what the future holds,
Telling me it's nothing good.
The nerves are creeping in again,
Slightly louder this time around,
Showing me all the things going wrong,
Destroying all the happiness I've found.
The nerves are creeping in again,
It's as though they're screaming this time,
Yelling at my every fuck up,
Because nothing is ever just fine.
The nerves are creeping in again,
And suddenly they're all I can hear,
They're clouding all of my thoughts,
And dwelling on every fear.
The nerves are creeping in again,
It's as though they're everything,
'There's a whole world outside of this bedroom'
So I think I'll just lock myself in.
g.c.g
YOU ARE READING
The blossom of a poet
PoetryWords fall softly like the petals from a blossom tree, drifting slowly onto the paper, creating poetry like the spring, beautiful and light, but just like the seasons, the poetry changes, the autumn comes and the words become heavy, falling quickly...
