Hey, I'm really not sure what to write here, so here it goes. I wrote poetry when I was a child and into my teens. It was never very good, but I enjoyed writing as an outlet. I recently started writing again and (I feel at least) that it isn't half bad. That's about it
pain has a way of burrowing into one's soul creeping on slowly from one day to the next. push it down I push it down deep. Until my body is filled with concrete. Heavy inside of me. Wherever I go I carry it within. The weight rests on my chest. seeping into every fiber of my being. making it hard to find breath. Replaying in my mind are the thoughts I've had forever about this, about that scary figments of things I try to understand but can't isolating it can be When the voices inside my mind whisper to me soft and sweet strange, twisted, freak the burdens we walk with are only our own. but the sun cannot shine through a wall made of stone seek out the warriors with tools made to fight. all the terrors within you the dirty or dark ceaseless shit in your mind
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- 2017 (3)
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