I wish I could write poetry every day.
But I'm used to this reality.
I'll fall in love with an idea.
Hold it.
Cherish it.
Then days later,
it is forgotten.
No matter how badly I wish to continue,
It is too late.
The fire is already dead.
YOU ARE READING
Escapism
PoesiaThis is a collection of poems I've written throughout my life showing my journey of mental health struggles, unhealthy relationships, my struggle with Christianity, and eventually finding some peace and happiness in my life. Before reading, please n...
