NaPoWriMo #22

Photo by Lux_Phantazie via ReShot


how does one escape one’s own mind? the torturous thoughts plod their way in, pumping away until the moon cries silver tears on a spring day.

a day’s pain is measured by sadness–how much is displayed–how much is there to give?

I fall out of my bed and in line with every day calling me, and take a chance on me once again.

am I worthy? can I be more?

the breaking comes when I am least prepared and the box I am shoved in gets smaller. there is no way out.

you recognize my pain

and do nothing.

Originally published via Simily.

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