I honestly don't know why I'm writing this anyway. Sometimes it's stress relieving but no one is really here to read it are they? I don't know why I'm always in distress. Like something out there is ready to come out and bite me in the ass for my sins in the past. I'm not the person I was back then, I think. I'm typing this right now sick, with scattered paper across my desk with a dim lamp light- orange tint. I have a devotion book of God's Words, I'm trying to find faith sometimes I question it. I have the book "The Song of Achilles" barely touched but I tell myself I'm getting to it. I have 2 exams today (it is currently 1am as I write this) but I'm sick, weary, weak.
Tell me when I feel relief again? Like the relief you have as a child when you finish the small chores you've done for mum. The relief when you are cuddling your stuffed animal and your mother tucks you into bed.
May this be, a message.
YOU ARE READING
I wish that I didn't write these poems.
PoetryVarious collective of unwanted poems I have written; for people who are fond of the subjects of heartache and who are disorientated through the navigation of this world. Let me share this with you. My emotions are inconsistent and messy, please in...
