Eyes sore from all the crying I dumped out of them
And rimmed with red they are my fears
I cannot face the future so I sleep instead
Casting my dreams like oily old nets
Ceaselessly into the past
They shiver
And I ask myself why I couldn't just keep it together
YOU ARE READING
In Which
PoetryA collection of poems about my experiences battling bipolar disorder, OCD, and addiction.
