I feel as if I'm running
on borrowed time.
Dodging the axe as it swings
and falls,
again and again,
sprinting past the snares
and the traps
laid out all around me,
ducking out of the path
of bullets,
left, right and centre
wherever I go.
Every day is a war,
and death
just waiting around the corner.
YOU ARE READING
still surviving
PoetryA collection of poems and diary entries from the diary of a girl with mental illness. These are the words unspoken, the raw reality of fighting against your own mind in the battle for recovery. Some content may be triggering for some readers, partic...
