There are days when my thoughts
Are formed of broken poetry.
Every sentence making less
Sense than the last.
I fear that no one will understand,
For I can't bear the pain of explanation.
Oh, how I wish to be of some use
To those who's mind needs a getaway.
My mind is formed of shattered glass
Put together from broken memories.
If I knew then what I know now,
I would have held onto my thoughts better.
— The End —