Nov 2018
My heart beats aren’t instrumental .
They’re painful .
And there’s no rhythm to remedy
the wreck that I am .
Every lub-dub is an alarm clock
waking me up to my reality.
A reminder that I’m still
broken .
That I’m still inhaling what kills me .
They’re painful .
And there’s no rhythm to remedy
the wreck that I am .
Every lub-dub is an alarm clock
waking me up to my reality.
A reminder that I’m still
broken .
That I’m still inhaling what kills me .
Staring into the darkness and hoping to see the moon again has been a constant routine. It’s beautiful, really . However waking up everyday with no more knowledge than the previous day has also presented itself as a familiar face and it aches me to think that on some days, I’m okay with that .
