Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2017
Looking up at the ceiling;
Its all I could do to keep myself busy. Sometimes I'll find myself staring into walls trying to think of what to think of. Sometimes, everything just feels like a ******* mess. My room, my face, my clothes, my body, my hair, my head. I try to clean it up, but where tf am I supposed to put all this ****??
late-ish night thoughts?
L
Written by
L  Californa
(Californa)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems