It feels as though I am suspended, like among a very dark series of clouds. There I constantly move about but in no general direction at all. Everything is twisting and whirling, so much you can't see what's around you. It seem's as though it is all so evil; mustn't there be some good in it though? I'm not sure anymore; on anything. One day the whirlwind will stop and everything will be in focus again. Can I make it until that day or will I take my own direction? Who is to say, they are all the same. Liers, cheaters, thieves, users and abusers. I guess I don't mind floating in oblivion; I'm not dealing with them head on.
Reason for writing:
Thinking one day about how much my life was all messed up by the things I've done.
Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by Monica -- Pisces.