Scribbles of a Storm
A Cyclone of Mental Illness
Every step seems to go in the wrong direction,
to the wrong place,
to the wrong goal.
Every step seems to go backwards,
away from the good
and towards the bad.
My mind's a drawing of a five year old;
sometimes you can tell what parts are while others are scribbles,
lines with no ending that intertwine
over and over and over again,
the experiences I relive
over and over and over again.
Falling for those I can't have,
blaming myself,
hating myself,
pushing people away,
making them hate me,
just so there can be a tangible reason for this-this-this ache in my chest
that spreads through my veins,
a cancer that can't be beat,
a virus multiplying
and wiping out my defenses faster than I can create them
before falling back,
a fake sense of security before the storm starts again,
spreading and spreading and destroying everything in it's path,
a never ending cycle that may just be the thing to take me out.
About the Creator
Cassandra Townsend
Aspiring writer. Poetry, nonfiction, fiction. Love writing about science, but also mental illness and my experiences with it.
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