It feels like I'm teetering on the side of a bridge.
And gravity hasn't decided if I'm going to be pulled back or fall face first into whatever dwells below.
I've been here before.
This place feels so familiar.
All the sounds, the smell.
Even the fog that I can feel surrounding me.
I've definitely been here before.
I can hear something rustling behind me.
But I don't want to open my eyes.
I can hear a voice.
But I can't tell who it belongs to.
Or what they're mumbling.
This place is strange.
It's like everything keeps shifting, buffering, reloading.
I can feel something much stronger than gravity tugging at me now.
Still can't tell what though.
I can't open my eyes to look.
I'm too afraid to disrupt the process.
I want to know which way I'll go.
Where will the wind take me?
Guess I just have to wait a bit longer to find out.
YOU ARE READING
Depression Is My Kryptonite
PoetryA jumble of extremely depressing poems written by me. And ramblings that feature mood swings every other second. Oh well.
