Supplier of passion, supplier of hope,
You once fuelled my love, yet somehow you've managed to steal it before a breath can sound as a choke.
How do you balance them both, but simultaneously make me want to cut my own throat?
You twisted thing, I give you life only for my own selfish need for a tangible foe
Whatever you are, I know that without you I wouldn't be able to cope, but if you weren't here at all would I need to cope at all?
Thoughts race till the late hours of the nights, friend or foe, they'll both derail you in the end.
All works are my own originals, All rights reserved.
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Cracks In The Concrete
PoetryThis book is the progress I make over the years trying to detangle years of childhood trauma and mental issue's. To anyone else it may seem completely incomprehensible but that's okay. I write for the reason all writers write, paper is a better lis...
