Consumed by numbers that give no satisfaction,
It's all I think of, I need a god damn distraction.
The facade of control, when really this is insanity,
As if this is a choice, a way I'd choose to be.
You mightn't understand, and you probably never will,
In all honesty I hope you don't, because you would know I am mentally ill.
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PoetryI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
