Blackened skies, angry cries.
Hand reached out, face with a pout.
Tired of it, want to quit.
Sleep sounds good, if I could.
Lay in bed forever, wish the past was never.
Hoping all brings a crack, erasing what I lack.
I'm not the only one ...
Dark with a chance of sun.
This is my own poem. About my current feelings on my situation.
I was told to journal and write, so I did. I don't care if it is good or not, only that it helps.