I’m slipping  through the cracks again.
But hope tells me to hold on

I wonder if someday
I can weave myself
in and out of my mind

Vivid images
still seared deep inside

Some days I wonder
if I was really meant to stay alive

The demons in my head
only fuel
my passion to write.

My safe haven
from everything
that sets me apart
from this life.

The one last thing
I have in my life
to save me from myself.

A single strand of hope
it lies within every one of us.

We only need to draw it out.
It’s hidden deep in our hearts
in the darkest places of our minds.

From the ashes
we can create aesthetic poetry.

Fragments 

I’m lost
in the depths of confusion.

I can’t see
nor hear a sound.
My mind is in ruins.

I try to piece the thoughts back together.
But they are just lost
somewhere in the blinding darkness
of my cluttered mind.

I can’t utter a word.
Only silence escapes my lips
and engolfs me.

In hopes of healing
I write
until I feel the soothing sense of contentment
and release.

In fear
in chaos
and blinded
by the silence inside my head.

I long for words to slip through my lips
to make everything all right again.