There are parts of me that
lay unrested - they are ghosts
in hallways, they are smoke
suffocating in locked rooms.
Sometimes I can feel
myself fading and it takes
all I have to pull myself
back from the abyss.
I'm walking on ice, yet
to find a stable foothold in
life seems unprecedented.
I still haven't learnt when
my hands began writing
rather than shaking.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
There are parts of me that
lay unrested - they are ghosts
in hallways, they are smoke
suffocating in locked rooms.
Sometimes I can feel
myself fading and it takes
all I have to pull myself
back from the abyss.
I'm walking on ice, yet
to find a stable foothold in
life seems unprecedented.
I still haven't learnt when
my hands began writing
rather than shaking.
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