The truth was that I was right.
Stop for a moment, and my life plummets.
Time is an illusion,
My mind is in a clouded sea,
And there is not a soul coming to save me.
If I could pull myself out, I would,
But it is the weight of these chains
That keep making me sink lower and lower
Into the depths of the underneath.
If I stop my hand at writing,
The chains will only get heavier,
My arms tired of flailing.
I will die in an inkless sea.
I will die alone.
YOU ARE READING
The Beginning To The End
PuisiI've never been a poet, that much is certain, but I can tell you that it does get written. A lot. These are the collections of my poetry I've written, and some of them hit hard for me.
