Head in my hands.
Heartbeat in my fingers.
Hurts to swallow.
Hurts to feel.
So many thoughts running-
Through my brain.
Why can't it all just-
Go away?
YOU ARE READING
The Words of a Person
PoetryMy words. Typed. As if- They could ever be called- Neat. *WARNING* Life is fucked up- So I guess I am too.
