This..
This is why..
I want to leave.
The fear.
Not only for,
Myself.
But for them too.
Maybe that's part of why..
I haven't made the choice,
To leave.
Yet.
Or maybe I'm not that-
Selfless.
Maybe I'm only scared,
Of what will happen..
To me.
Shaking hands.
Trembling body.
Pounding blood.
Aching heart.
And I'm not even..
The one screaming.
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.