Every time I look
Into a mirror,
I ask myself, what
Are you doing here?
You're blonde hair,
Is white as snow.
You're all dressed up
But no place to go.

The words hang heavy
over my head,
pressing firmly,
around my neck,
weighing me down,
without uttering a sound,
I have drowned
in my silence.

(a little re-write from 12/2017)

A lonely tear, slides down my cheek
as I think of this life of ours.
It pains me when recalling you,
now the tear has become two.
I am not weeping, there is no more.
Just the tick of a clock.

My mind is running away from me.
I think I need a pre frontal lobotomy.
Thoughts that are stuffed in every place,
Wedged in cracks or any empty space.
I need some time. Time to think
Or I may have to turn to drink.