My mind often feels like it’s filled with ink or fog. However, I know that moments like these pass a given time. Photo from Pinterest
My room is a prison from time to time
When it’s supposed to be a respite
It only hurts every now and again
And I promise
I fight it the best I can
With hobbies
And friends
And breaks.
But those hobbies seem to expire
Friends are finite
And breaks only end up breaking me
In half
I imagine my life a dream from time to time
Because when I stop
And when I think
A spiral begins
With curves and fears
Poisonous spikes
My mind becomes my room
And my room is my mind
Destroyed,
Darkened
A mess of the mental kind