poetry from her grave

I am from-

Nights of being unable to assuage
the mental cacophony of self-doubt

Writing morose poetry to pass the time
Until it's my own time

The viola
And thimbles and books

An overworked mother
An uncaring, drunk father

Twisted highs of euphoria to
Lugubrious lows of dysphoria

The gallows at which
Joy and Sanity were hanged

My asinine ramblings
And my despondent silence