The nothing of all this everything
This living is slowly killing me
Rather be ruined because I lived
Then to be live because I never did
Call it a waste
Than bleed me dry as a desert
Till my pockets burst into flames
Call it a phase
Than to journey to a treasure of what happiness is
Call it a risk
Than break me to the bone
Shattered into a million different puzzle pieces
Ruin
Like Phoenixes the best of us are born from it
YOU ARE READING
Symptoms
PoetryPoetry. Love. Happiness. Sadness. Depression. Guilt. Regret. Struggle and Confliction. We may all be breathing, we may all have our hearts beating. But these are our vital signs. These are symptoms that prove we're alive.
