I lay here staring at the ceiling. The thoughts in my head they're screaming at me, the room spinning. I'm a record, laying on a record player. The needle is the words you've said to me and the music is these loud thoughts, playing out on a loop. A horrendous sound and the record keeps spinning and your words keep scratching at the surface. I am a record and I want to stop spinning.
YOU ARE READING
Ryan's Poetic Collection (HEARTBREAK AND HEALING)
PoetryA selection of poetic pieces of writing about emotions.
