God, it's so hard to write these days.
My hands quiver from the cold silence in the house,
My thoughts tremble like a leaf just barely attached
to a tree,
the wind silently waiting to sweep it away,
no mercy. Just like them.
They think I'm still here,
but they've lost me a long time ago.
I am just like them,
ghosts attached to a physical being,
haunted by everything.
But they cannot revive themselves.
I can.
I have not locked away all my pieces like them,
I am tender and I will not be numb.
Breathing.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 8:58 PM UTC
God, it's so hard to write these days.
My hands quiver from the cold silence in the house,
My thoughts tremble like a leaf just barely attached
to a tree,
the wind silently waiting to sweep it away,
no mercy. Just like them.
They think I'm still here,
but they've lost me a long time ago.
I am just like them,
ghosts attached to a physical being,
haunted by everything.
But they cannot revive themselves.
I can.
I have not locked away all my pieces like them,
I am tender and I will not be numb.
Breathing.
