Every time I zoned out of reality, I started to overthink. It was just a bunch on nonsense and profanity going through my head. But, I felt as if it was important to keep thinking about those thoughts because no one else really seemed to think about them too much. If I thought too much, however, I felt depression harmonizing with my veins and intoxicating me slowly.
And it was a ****** feeling.
I've also come to realize that most of these ****** feelings have no original beginnings, they just create themselves. And oh how ineffable it feels. To feel so much -- too many -- and not have a single answer to these nefarious emotions.
[I'm still retouching this poem a bit to improve. Thank you for reading loves.]
— The End —