I can't stop to think
If I stop my brain may shrink
Me
Ask itself what's wrong
I'll spiral down
I keep going distracting my mind
Maybe I'll forget all my pain this time
Maybe I'll move on
Into a better time
Maybe I'll live long
Or stop telling myself that lie
Maybe I’ll believe myself this time
I'll hope for a better life
But I can't
Because hope kills the dreams
I dream in my sleep
Optimism is a false positive
It brings me down
With empty promises
And I think
Maybe
Just maybe
It's all my fault in the end
About the Creator
Catherine
I am a 20-year-old college student who deals with depression and anxiety and uses writing and poetry to understand it better. This is my raw feelings put into words, and this is me.
Tortured Soul
The soul careened blindly through a void where it scraped against the walls of a narrow tunnel, amassing a cumulative friction that created all the heat the devil would ever need to torment it. There was no light at the end, not even a fire. From the bottom a cold wind blew, and the clash of extremities spawned vapors of terror in the deadened and numbed appendage that was this strange, delirious, drunken consciousness.
By C. Rommial Butler6 days ago in Fiction
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