I am cracked pottery.
Leaking sadness
Nearly empty
Searching for something to fill me up,
to stop the joy from bleeding through my cracks.
Searching for tape
To hold the pieces together
Searching for fire
To rekindle and transform my scars to mesh together with my skin
I am just pieces, blowing in the wind,
Crumbling, grasping at the earth
Searching for a foothold
Blowing waywardly with no direction
I am lost.
YOU ARE READING
The Pool of Anguish
PoetryJust some prose and poetry I wrote in the past that highlights depression and anxiety. chronicles of an angsty young adult who doesn't know if she'll ever succeed in life.
