In mere seconds, I almost lost everything.
This poetry. What's the point?
They collide with a chilling intensity.
My scars are like the stars. Too many to count.
Some call them poems, but for me, they are all, self portraits.
He never played with me. He never taught me anything.
2:14 AM. Words don't describe, this feeling.
I'm thankful for my treatment. For doctors and medicines and therapy.
It is a memory. Of things I've done.
Black socks don't show blood. White socks do.
Know that the effect your thoughts have on yourself and others have the opposite effect on me.
The picture is from the evacuee camp we stayed in while our town was threatened by wildfire. It's when I really started cutting bad.
ashes, ashes, we all fall down~
I stand before you, and bare my soul.
Lie/ lī/ verb. An act of lying, an act with patience fogges the raw covered truth. And how can you change when you cannot even see.
For me, depression always lurks.