Poetry archive from the mental hospital

Thougths

Here's a truth I've never told anyone else: when I am surrounded by people, I am the most alone. I wish I could tell you that I am filled to the brim with contentment

Is it ungrateful to wish for your warm embrace when the hands of others pray for my company?

My world last summer was sticky gold and deep blue. I do not know why things fade so fast. Sometimes I wonder if you do that on purpose.