Could you see the snowflakes?
Cold, soft and wet.
Could you see my breath?
The last one i'd take.
Each moment I live, it's like a mistake.
I can't really give what I took.
And I've suffered.
Mentally broken and shattered like a mirror against the ground.
There I go, scattered.
Nobody can fix something that's broken in all ways to hell.
You can't pick up every piece.
Every shard.
You can't begin to know how many pieces of myself I've lost to being broken and shattered time and time again.
The mistakes I make are ones I've owned up to.
The constant depression and regression of morality.
The constant repenting of my disregard of the beating heart I've been blessed.
I'm a damn joke most days.
Nothing I ain't used to.
Just another Night in November.
YOU ARE READING
Dreams Over Reality
PoetryA compliation of poems and skits. The skits are no longer being continued. Most poems are about me and the events around me. Read my story This is my story.
