When do i start to feel whole in this sinking feeling that poisons my skull? When am i allowed to destroy this body that i hate and in the wreckage build a new one that i still hate but at least the world will love? When do i get to become a member of society instead of being the sad, miserable snail that is me?
Mentally i am a mess but physically i am something that you can tuck into your pocket and forget exists even though i will ring in your pocket like a phone call begging to be answered. i am a mirror cracking not because of a fist but because i have cried at it so many times that it has started to cry with me.
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Poems
PoetryA collection of short pieces of writing/poems that I've written through the years and decided to publish. WARNING: MAY CONTAIN BRIEF/DIRECT MENTIONS OF SUICIDE OR ADDICTIONS
