How many days has it been
since I stopped breathing?
I don't remember when
but I somehow stopped healing.
So I pick up this pen
and let the ink keep bleeding
'til I can say it again
and truly believe it.
I'm alive.
I exist.
YOU ARE READING
Ghostwriter
PoetryLiving with mental illness can oftentimes trap one within the inner maze of their mind. In that place, dreams, fears, wishes, and regrets all compile together to create a new world far from the one we physically exist in. At times, it becomes easy t...
