The mind becomes a mess,
A thousand thoughts taking circles inside,
Nothing really makes sense.
I don't want to let it go too,
It makes me tired,
It makes me exhausted,
Until an outlet is found.
I pour my heart into those blank sheets,
I scribble it all down,
That is when I see a blury image of my perspective,
It all gradually makes sense.
Writing is a saviour,that helps me find a way through the maze of my own thoughts.
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Sorry for not being able to update as frequently as before.
All of your votes and comments means a lot..!! Thank you !! <3
YOU ARE READING
Recovery
PoetryHealing myself is what for I write, Hoping to see someday the path bright, Each time raising my expectations to great summits Just to let you know how much optimism it brings. ************************************ Feel free to share your views and op...
