I don't know how to express it, but writing helps me immensely.
I get this feeling that wells up inside of me like a fire, itching to burn.
I don't always remember what I write, just like you don't always remember stray thoughts but the same thing remains constant; I wrote those vocables as I thought of them, giving me no time to refrase or reword, or even spell check for that matter.
And as I read back through that morbid literature that resigns in my mind, I wondered if this was held in for a awhile or is simply newly developing problems.
YOU ARE READING
Inside The Horrible Mind Of Morgan.
PoésieJust what it's like inside my head. Don't read it you don't want to. I really am just sick and tired of everything and the only way I can escape this hellhole most call life is through writing. So welcome to my darkside. Most of these are mine, bu...