Darkness settles in when I sit
Alone in a room.
You could sit beside me
And I would be
Drowning.
A pit
In my stomach and impending doom.
The irritability settles in every day
But what can I say?
My mind is a colossal mess
My words are scrambled in ways
That it is hard to confess.
The therapist does not even know
The realities of what goes
On inside
But I try.
Oh, but I try.
YOU ARE READING
The Dying Poet's Dream
PoetryGo on an adventure with me through words, landscapes, and dreams. Sail beyond your landscapes and follow your own compass to the beat of your own drum. Follow me through the woods and adventure to the great beyond.
