She smelt of
Burnt coffee,
Vaseline,
And hopelessness.
Glass shards cloaked the floor,
Smothering her belongs,
Like a blanket used to suffocate captives.
Amongst the chaos,
Stands tall pictures of her family.
Untouched and distorted with dust.
Step by step,
She searches through the rubble.
Through tear swelled eyes,
She stares into the floor.
I’m not enough.
I need to be more.
They count on me.
I’m not enough.
Her thoughts spiral around her mind,
As if each one were a razor blade.
Slowing blending her brain.
Her muscles ached,
Her head pounded as the tears fell from her cheeks and onto her cracked lips.
In a wave of realisation,
She ****** air in through her nose and exhaled harshly.
Carried by a whisper;
****.
She pushed herself to her feet,
And found herself cleaning her room again.
As a writer with ADHD I struggle to handle life’s stresses. This poem lets you see into the disappointment in myself.