They collide with a chilling intensity. This poetry. What's the point?
In mere seconds, I almost lost everything. My scars are like the stars. Too many to count.
Some call them poems, but for me, they are all, self portraits.
2:14 AM. Words don't describe, this feeling.
I'm thankful for my treatment. For doctors and medicines and therapy.
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. 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. Disgusted by my own gender, yet driven by it all the same. A conflict I can never resolve.
Written on the fly while drunk, so excuse the nonsense. Maybe I shouldn't bother anymore.