A poets ramble.

by Blank   Nov 9, 2019

Today I've sat here, watching my phone. It hasn't changed. It hasn't turned on. It hasn't vibrated and it hasn't pinged. It hasn't changed. Only silence. A black screen that I occasionally turn on to check if a notification has appeared or a person had tried to call. But there was nothing, just my "emo" home screen of a raven. I've thought of my... friends, not even my family. I thought about college and how I am failing. Yet I have no motivation to improve, no motivation for help. For some reason I want to run when I can barely move my legs. If I ever speak it's just usually to myself. Or my thumbs say the words for me because I am too scared to yell. Am I really your friend, or am I just tolerated? Why am I like this? I don't want to be myself. I'm trapped in my mind though I cannot think. All I want to do is cry, yet I do not feel. The silence is golden, but it's causing my brain to melt. All I can hear is the heartbeat ache against my chest- and the whisper of voices that go through my head. I can't turn away from my phone, even when I wish it was dead


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Latest Comments

  • 7 months ago

    by Ben Pickard

    Sometimes the 'rambles' are the best sorts of writes.
    All the best,