in quiet moments my reflection is forced, good thoughts don’t come easy to a troubled mind.
try as i might i cannot not reach a good place, positivity is fleeting.
the ever present anger is like an unhinged dragon, burning down friendship as well as family. the anger is ever thirsty.
i cry for help but only in my head as that word does not match my expression and only lends to hushed tones of my sanity.
i am but a reflection of my world. an amalgamation of unclear voices searching for an ear, searching for a heart, searching for home. i have traveled alone and i have grown wary, my steps are short and unsure. i am but a reflection of my world.
i look into myself often for some semblance of who i was. i am struck by revulsion, that if the person that was me walked up and shook my hand, it would be the same person i am now
i have not evolved. my development arrested. i give pause, head in my hand and i WEEP.
i have to look back an wonder, is this me or a anomaly of me.
sleep does not come easy to the troubled mind, i hope tomorrow is not just another day.