I know that I love to write. I can sit here for hours, sit back and just kick it. A healing remedy for my pain. An answer to my doubt. Pen and paper I cannot do without. There are many ways of expressing my thoughts. I cannot help relating what I was taught. It gets so disappointing at times for I am not pursuing all in which I should. So I sit back, write, and dwell on how I know I could. So dazed and confused knowing how much time I’ve allowed to pass. My book will get published when I make this drink my last.
About the Creator
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from Karen Carrington and writers in Poets and other communities.
My Disease
My Disease By ~Karen CARRINGTON~ Yes I get frustrated but frustration isn’t it. I know that I get aggravated, yet aggravation I allow in. I constantly cry and reap what I so. I have to understand that I have to let go. A disease is what I have. It has affected my soul. Shut down my dreams and all of my goals. Aspirations are now a thing of my past. Inspiration I no longer have. Just a spot in this world as I watch my life on unfurl. Depression has set in, I have allowed it to. I’ve made many mistakes. My biggest was you. This sickness that I have we are both to blame. Falling in love with you, when you weren’t feeling the same. Hard to let go? But what am I holding? Is it valuable, trustworthy, reliable within? Do I get treatment for this sickness and allow you in again? Or do I want a cure? Lifelong remedy for my disease. I am asking for closure. My final word is please.
By Karen Carrington3 years ago in Poets
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.