Cold bed.
Lonely pillows.
Dirty tissues.
Memories stuck in my mind
while trying to get them behind.
Messy hair.
Red eyes.
Sobby words.
Naps could not improve
my heart's groove.
Eye bags tinted with black mascara.
Soaked lips by tears.
Veins throbbing.
Heart beating.
Depression assaulting.
YOU ARE READING
In Order To Grow
Poetrybecoming something I've always deserved to be empowering my soul and my mind fighting for me