My childhood home is slowly filling with water. I'm trying to escape but my body is glued to my bed. My existence is held up with these 4 walls 18 years spent asleep in this room. Who am I without the anger that is roaming the halls. Without the monsters under my bed that have gained more courage and come out in the day. Who would I become if I left this house. What if I didn't change.
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The live's I've lived
PoetryThis is a collection of poems and pieces of writing. That I have written over the last 2 years of my life. I've never been one to actually live. To take the risk. A lot of the things I have written are about things that have happened in my head. Or...
