My legs hang from the chair, so close to the floor, but it feels far away.
clients come in and out; in and out. When movements stops, it becomes bleak.
Bored and mindlessly wondering through the depst of my mind. I hope to not go down the forbidden caverns.
Stillness can be dangerous....
Time moves, yet I'm motionless. The outside became a distant white noise, the louder the inner screams becomes.
Those horrid cries I so despritly try to ignore, are overwhelming my senses. My actions become compulsive, distructive, rude. How miserable to be!
Don't let the wickedness control me. Stillnes will make me crack.
If I could disappear in moments like this, things would be easier. Silently vanish, and return when needed. How theraputic it would be.
Daydreaming can do so much...
Many thoughts pass, when I'm still.
YOU ARE READING
Written Feelings
PoetryForget the rules of poetry Write your heart out We are all our own poets
