I’ve always been a fan of poetry, but I don’t spend a lot of time with it. This came across my Pinterest a while back and it’s stuck with me.
Honestly the only time it seems I’m ready to crack, to let the immensity of what’s been lost envelope me, is when it’s too late. When it’s 2am and I just want to scream and I feel myself shaking from the effort of keeping it in.
But then it passes so I’m left choking on all the words left unsaid, the unfairness and injustice of it all.
I dont know how to make it better, I don’t know what I need to get through this mess. I just know it can’t be fixed, so I carry on.