I'm unwell, that much is clear.
I have a sickness of the mind called creativity.
It plagues my body like a disease.
It spreads through my blood like cancer cells.
There is no stopping this infection.
My thoughts have turned to chaos and my blood has become poisonous.
This disease stops me from seeing anything clearly.
My life is one long fevered dream.
It never ends.
I can't wake up.
It just goes on and on.
Never stopping.
Lock me in a room with my musings and I promise I won't make it out alive.
It's a fight to the death and I never stood a chance.
YOU ARE READING
I Have A Purple Heart
PoetryThere is no real purpose for this other than writing down whatever comes to mind. I want to apologize for taking down my other content, even though it got alot of views, I decided I wanted to take a different path with my writing. One day I plan to...
