Her rose coloured glasses shattered and she can only see the bad in the world again.
She shakes with anixety worse then ever before and her thoughts creep up on her once again.
Her body is a canvas, thick red lines painted everywhere to display a beautiful image of agony. The artist in her can't help but be proud of her work.
She feels twisted.
Her depression is a heavy cloud of black smog surrounding her, she is not longer able to breathe and in the struggle she tries to reach for her rose coloured glasses but they are shattered and the tape she used to try and fix them is blocking her view
YOU ARE READING
A Collection Of My Thoughts.
PoetryAll poetry is mine. - - A gathering of my deepest thoughts and feelings compiled into one small book of poetry. trigger warning = (tw) - - Stay safe xx Logan
