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MissBluePoems
Most days. I can't really explain it. I will need you to work with me. Most days. I can't see in front of me. My eyes feel like they're cracking open. Most days. I can't write a simple word. The letters get mixed up and my hands too shaky. Most days. I can't breathe or speak or even function. I'm drowning but nobody notices because I'm good the motions. Most days. I can't get rid of the cold in my hands. I compress a fist, so the cold hurts, and nails pinch my palm. Some days. I can live wonderfully. But then again that's not most days.
0
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
Most days.
Most days. I can't really explain it. I will need you to work with me. Most days. I can't see in front of me. My eyes feel like they're cracking open. Most days. I can't write a simple word. The letters get mixed up and my hands too shaky. Most days. I can't breathe or speak or even function. I'm drowning but nobody notices because I'm good the motions. Most days. I can't get rid of the cold in my hands. I compress a fist, so the cold hurts, and nails pinch my palm. Some days. I can live wonderfully. But then again that's not most days.
Written by
MissBlue
F
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
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