My words are shooting stars with no filter
flying rapidly like demons in the sky,
the ego soars drenched with sorrow.
The air is funny today.
Molecules bouncing around so rapidly—
so many multiplying!
I can see them and the wind pushes me
and I fall some more
even though I’m lying on the ground
under the hot sun and my thoughts are
running towards yesterday and sprinting towards
My mind is wandering like a lost soul,
song on repeat.
Hours pass and my shirt is soaked with
mixed with hot tears.
I know I am as good as God,
Picasso is in my back pocket,
no one knows who lives behind
not even I,
how hard I try,
don’t want to be forgotten.
Latest posts by Sophia Falco (see all)
- The Battle Within: Bipolar Disorder by Sophia Falco - July 20, 2018