She hates the clock ticking in the hall way.
Her mind is always wondering to the darkest places of all.
She try's and gets up, everything turns to a blur as tears rolling down her face.
She falls to ground hearing the voices in her head telling her things that she never wants to hear.
The clocks ticking noise gets louder and louder.
She closes her eyes hoping she'll never wake up.
-Mickey
YOU ARE READING
Pretty In Poems
Thơ caI write poems to explain the darkness of depression or anxiety, people have their own way of seeing it but I just want to make it clear it's not easy for those who have it. I'm hoping you'll enjoy this book of my poems. If you need help reach out to...
