I am lost. Holding a map up looking at which direction where to go. Ignoring the fact that I need to be home. Letting it go as I put it to the side. Ripping the map as I'm planning to go somewhere else. A place where my friend's party all night long. Where there are people who smoke until their lungs wheeze with pain. Drinkers whos livers deteriorate from the excess alcohol. There I go, running into those with broken dreams and no plans to change. There I sit alone observing and reminiscing just about everything. I feel sick to my stomach as I realize I do not belong here.
Frantically I go back and try to pick up the map. Bringing the pieces back together in order to get back home. But is home still an option at this point? Will I be stuck in this forever?
Is this really my life, I ask.
Someone get me out of my misery. A hand of aid would be nice.
But all I have left is tears to shed at 1 am in the morning meanwhile writing a poem or two.
- regret
YOU ARE READING
surviving the storm
PoetryA collection of poems meant to soothe and release the pain from the rainy days
