Everything is wrong.
A disaster,
A mess.
A tornado twisted over my head.
It's my fault I guess,
See I do this often.
I wallow in distress.
Depressed.
I let it take over and make a mess.
A mess in every aspect.
I can't seem to make the best,
The best decisions.
The less,
The less choices I possess.
The less my mind is aware of my steps.
My steps.
Lead in one direction.
Backwards.
Pressed.
Pressed backwards are my legs.
I watch my life move forward.
But my legs.
My legs move back in time,
Stuck in rewind.
Stuck,
Stuck in time.
But I guess I never learned,
You can't press rewind in real life,
To save yourself.
So I guess I'll have to just,
Press fast forward,
Flat line,
Guess I'll just have to end myself.
YOU ARE READING
She.
PoetryPoetry, scenes and short stories written from the fingertips of a girl who doesn't know her own heart. She's filled each corner with love and light that she thought was pure just to watch it rot off and fill like a gaping dark hole. But these heartb...
