I sit there pondering the question that often twirls around inside my head like a ballerina.
The question of "why not give up." I don't clearly have an answer, but if you were to ask me why I haven't given up I couldn't give an answer either.
I do know that to keep myself going through these disastrous times with music and falling in love with the small things in life.
Funny things and picture taking.
Heavy breathing and flower picking. Star gazing and overthinking.
Small smiles and passing by conversations.
Crowded halls , tight chest. Bright lights, headaches.
Voices echoing in my head repeating, replying and rewinding every little mistake and beyond.
Three a clock in the morning eyes still wide open pondering the question that twirls around like a ballerina.
~E.M.C
YOU ARE READING
Hurt Beyond Repair.
PoetryHurt and frightened and no where to turn except for my journal. Curse words being streamed at me and you would have thought I had a father for a sailor. ~E.M.C Many poems focusing on the subject of Mental Illness, that many suffer with and the su...
