Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
When the seconds turn into days; turn into weeks, turn into years I'm losing track of the time. On the cusp of 22; feeling black and blue, from the fights with a million voices I'm losing track of my mind. When the muscles in my face; begin to ache, from all the happiness I fake It's just a matter time. On the cusp of giving up; Lost in a sea of bad luck, nothing seems to ever be changing It's just a matter of my mind. I've learned to live with my broken heart I can't even tell if it's falling apart I guess... I've gotten used to it I guess... I've gotten used to it
0
Jun 30, 2023
Jun 30, 2023 at 6:38 AM UTC
Gotten Used To It
When the seconds turn into days; turn into weeks, turn into years I'm losing track of the time. On the cusp of 22; feeling black and blue, from the fights with a million voices I'm losing track of my mind. When the muscles in my face; begin to ache, from all the happiness I fake It's just a matter time. On the cusp of giving up; Lost in a sea of bad luck, nothing seems to ever be changing It's just a matter of my mind. I've learned to live with my broken heart I can't even tell if it's falling apart I guess... I've gotten used to it I guess... I've gotten used to it
JordanRay
Written by
26/M/Wales
Jun 30, 2023
Jun 30, 2023 at 6:38 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem