The wings of Butterflies
and Human eyes, of these I get
Poetic highs

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Yet

My heart aches, and clouds hold fast my mind

Thought still I hear

The silence of the waves

The silence of their Siren pull

wash like hemlock through my senses

Their echoes crashing on my island shore

Returning to the sea

Unheard

Their hushed harmony

Foams surging up my beaches

A descant imprinted on my strand

Whispering back to the squalls

Unheeded.

Ne...

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5th grade was my downfall

Anxiety coupled with A.D.D

Made for the perfect broken marriage.

6th grade was calm.

I had everything under control

And I was taking medication

But 7th grade was morbid.

A child,

One only the devil could produce,

Had arrived with the diseased name

Of Depression.

8th grade was the year Depression made friends

Suicidal Tho...

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