by Bear Peterson
I tried to paint a picture, of how I really feel. But I could not find the colors that make it all seem real. Not one color was hot enough, to show the burning pain. not one color bright enough, to make me wince again. Not one was dark enough, to show the isolation. In the end I saw one thin line, Worn, frayed and almost broke, to my mind that one thin line, is a single thread of hope.
YOU ARE READING
Poems of a depressed teenage girl
PoetryJust a collection of poems that I found or wrote.
