The days crawl by in quarantine.
On lockdown, each hour
everlasting.
I stare at the cold,
blank face of the clock
as the hands seem to move
ever
s l o w e r.
Tick.... tick.... tick....
The hollow little click mocking me
from behind the glass.
The wind howls outside my window,
the sun beats down upon the door.
The outside world is calling me,
but I am trapped, still,
in this dark and dismal room.
The sweet temptation beckons,
the thought of sun and smoke,
and friends,
to fight away the boredom.
But the clock face winks at me,
once more,
and the minutes still stretch on.
Tick... tick... tick...
From the last glowing kiss
of sunset,
til the early light of dawn.
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...
