the forest of my thoughts has become way too crowded for even myself to live in it; as the thick vines wrap around my neck and pull hard, all i can do is scream – or try to, at least. the problem is, i have failed. no matter how much i try to fight the death rope wrapped around me, i somehow always manage to fall back into it. the trees surrounding me are too long for anyone to dare step a foot inside, or for me to even think of getting out for that matter. to make it worse, the thorns that dug their way into my heart for years have me bleeding whenever my heavy eyes are open – and closed. at this point, i'm not sure if i'm dead, if this is all a strange uncalled for dream, or if i'm real to start with. all i'm certain of is that i won't last much, but is that really a bad thing?
YOU ARE READING
as quiet as a fire
Poetryyou have my heart and mind in your hands now. i hope you have a safe trip. but read at your own risk, i can't promise you'll come out alive.
