I'd always talk about that place.
The line.
The edge.
I'd say I felt too close.
I didn't want to step off.
But the days are long.
And they seem to drag.
They hurt.
And I want them to stop.
I felt myself getting closer.
You said you were proud that I hadn't gone over.
But how will you feel
When I tell you it feels like I have?
You might
Hate me.
Resent me.
Be disappointed.
How can I face that?
But it's too late.
I've stepped over the edge.
And I've shattered.
I'm broken.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts
PoetryMy thoughts tend to form like poems, so I figured I'd share them- part of me hoping they make sense to more than just myself.