I couldn’t remember the last time I looked at myself in the mirror.
It really does felt like forever.
I have been avoiding my own reflection to restrain myself from thinking.
“When will I reach the point of perfection?”
I couldn’t remember the last time I wrote a poem.
But all I know of is that is what frustrates me the most.
Every time I try,
I would constantly rhyme.
Oh goodness have I lost it?
Why can’t I write?
I couldn’t remember gulping my uneasiness down my throat anymore,
They would all let out as a cry.
Or a prickle of tear.
Either it’s clammy hands,
Or fidgeting around with my fingers.
I can’t seem to get myself together.
I won’t get a grip.
Just bring me to my bed.
Where I would wrap myself in a blanket.
And sit still right there with my hollow mind.
Along with the cracks that made me.
Oh how divine shall this evening be.