It's like there's a timer in my head,
and it's seems to slowly descend
as if it wants me dead,
but I'm unsure of when it will end.
I'm unsure of what we're counting to,
and unsure of my desired result,
if it'll be some kind of breakthrough
or if it's one big insult;
Or perhaps it is one big trap,
and my breath will slowly leave,
my own brain, I wish to unwrap,
my own death, I wouldn't grieve.
The timer is nearing zero,
and I still don't know what comes after,
all I really appear to know
is I want my brain to shatter.
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PoetryI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
