My story.
It seems the pen has slipped the hand today.
The words that once seemed to be clear, muddled by emotions I should control.
Yet to put thought to paper used to be as easy as breaking..... Breathing.
It wasn't the eye or the storm I seem to find yet still can feel the undeniable breeze that constantly shows me just how close I am to being torn apart.
Constant reminder.
Pen slips hands, thought slip mind and as if I knew my life balances on the knifes of failure. I can't fall, can't drown can't let it all consume.
And so struggling to put pen to paper and thoughts out of mind.
Make clear of jumbled words to form stories.
My story.
YOU ARE READING
Salvaged Soul
Puisi"The mind is a beautiful servant but a dangerous master" It said "so i must then let it serve my soul" I whispered A salvaged soul is not new, it is old. It has lost and is still losing but is no longer who it was when it first broke. To be one step...
