Sometimes the monster rears its head
Some days I can’t get out of bed
Grey mornings and I feel the dread
But no more wishes to be dead.

There are times when I see the hole
The pit the chasm in my soul
But it has shrunk like washed-out wool
The empty ice is now just cool.

I think I’ll always feel the weight
The steepest cliff of would-be fate
But I don’t peek over the edge
My two feet are far from the ledge.

Share:

Share on facebook
Facebook
Share on twitter
Twitter
Share on pinterest
Pinterest
Share on linkedin
LinkedIn

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

On Key

Related Posts

Zara gets ‘The Lowdown’ from Alice Pelton.

Zara speaks to Alice Pelton, LSE alumna and femtech pioneer. In 2019, Pelton created the first review platform for women’s health — ‘The Lowdown’– where users can share their experiences with contraception, fertility, periods, and more.

Love, in its many forms

Written by Anna Alexiv The words we use for things are always changing. We love a good label, and there is always someone insisting that

scroll to top