With the flick of the wrist or
the steady rhythm of fingertips
tapping away on the keyboard,
I have the power to release
tears,
anger,
frustration,
fear into words.
Couplets of happiness and
anthologies of depression.
Now that I can see them again,
I want nothing more than to
close those books back up.
Ghosts of my past
haunt me. Torment me.
If only there was hubris to boost my ego.
It's just
Myselves now.
YOU ARE READING
Caffeine and Me
PoesiaA collection of poetry ranging from brain farts to exploring why I bother getting up in the morning. Most likely there is some form of caffeine to keep me awake (or alert) enough to type my thoughts out regarding my depression, struggles within my d...
