I’ll tell my story one day to the dirt that is placed beneath my toes.
My voice will be faint because my mouth will be filled with the sores of the pain that has eaten away my ability to speak my mind.
You’ll never know what truly goes on in this mind.
Why don’t I poke a tiny little hole and let you in so you too can walk the steps of a troubled soul.
Can’t handle it right?
That’s what I thought.
We all want our
death to be meaningful and mine will be too I can feel like I am running out of time. I am done resetting the hour glass for the 50th time.
Only time will tell.
But it’s not going to be now so don’t worry.
I will walk you through it so you can see the full picture before I