It starts with forgetting how to think.
A savage blow to heart and drive.
Wishing I was not alive.
On my bed, I’ll lay and blink.
Only getting up to drink.
My mind is no place to thrive.
Clouded like a smoked out hive.
I stare with hate at the man in the mirror above the sink.
Deep down I know there’s worse to be had.
At least I have a bed.
Yet, I still think I am bad.
Filling myself with useless dread.
Bury the thoughts that make you mad.
Keep them in until you’re dead.
About the Creator
Julian Hayden
I write for fun so I can become a better writer. My focus is the writing of dramatic stories in whatever genres interest me. My goal is to someday have a published work of fiction that can be bought at a bookstore near you. Follow the THIS.
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