I woke my spirits from the grave
and painted them in cheerful colors
because I thought that that would make it better
but I've buried the bodies
of a million bad decisions
in this unhallowed soil
and now it's time to reap the foul fruit
moldering on the vine
and feast on the rotten flesh
of all my discarded ambitions,
to fill my belly with a putrid harvest
of self-loathing and despair
YOU ARE READING
furthermore
PoetryA poetic diary of sorts. A collection of poems chronicling my depression, suicidal ideation, and my journey through therapy.
