My mind is all but together.
It is creative, imaginative, bright, beautiful, but organized it is not. Its completely mad running to and fro, without a care for the person on the outside.
It is filled with nightmares dark and dreary
scaring the loving memories away. Pushing the out the space till there are no more.
I am forgetful because my beasts are large, they are a blood thirsty burden.
A burden Id rather not keep, yet do not know how to rid of. I don't want to carry these. They are heavy, holding me down like rocks on my back and steel shackles on my wrists. They are rough and unforgiving, sweeping in and out of my mind.
I am forgetful, because I feel sometimes it does not matter. That it is only a night occurrence, but you see.
I don't only get these things at night
Sometimes in the day they haunt, they pry.
They hold me down and force me to smile.
While inside, I cry for help, But who will listen.
Because I am forgetful.
YOU ARE READING
Heart of Moss
PoetryThis is a book of my everyday life and what I feel. This is my life and I would love for you to live through it with me. It's from rants, to poetry, to just plain writing. It's bout whatever sucks ass or whatever is unbelievably awesome and whatever...
