Blindly stumbling through the fog.
Suffocating.
Heavy.
Thick.
Cold.
Its tendrils pierce my clothes;
They become damp,
Weighing me down.
Cold dew on my skin,
Ice in my bones.
Trudging through nothingness,
I continue numbly on,
Onwards to nowhere.
No destination.
No path.
Lost.
YOU ARE READING
Behind the Silence
PoésiePoetry portraying the things I never say, the pain of depression and other unspoken shadows in my mind. Writing is my way of exploring and coping with a lot of internal issues and I like the way poetry is able to paint pictures of emotion.
