Category : Poems
Sub Category : N/A
If I kept a notebook to write down each days emotions, it would be a reflection of chaos and commotion. Some days, I could fill them all. Yet many days, they would be as blank as a canvas wall.
I'm really not sure just what that means. Maybe I'm coming apart at the seams. Or maybe I'm just losing control, maybe there was no control at all.
If thoughts are just lightning bolts across the brain, then it's no wonder why I feel such pain. Images burned into dark recesses, digging them out is never pleasant.
So my mind goes through these chaotic convulsions, releasing everything in spectacular explosions. Words and phrases come pouring out, but only to paper and never from mouth. So the pages are either filled or empty, my mind is past the point of thinking simply.