I ask myself
will this never end
wishing I could read the last page
slam the book shut
then put the story of my life back on the bookshelf
and only grab it to look back when it suits me
But I live with the past present in my every footstep every breath is breathing anxiety
which has been left behind
that should have been fetched up long ago.
And I know that you sleep without dreaming
while I roll around in throes of fear
that you shall stand outside my door
Lock behind me
slam the door shut
in a desperate attempt to keep all the memories outside
(no idea if triggering) Just some poetry I guess
Moderator: Jonesy
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