☿

and when it does decide to free me

from the shackles of my mind,

who am i deny,

full of buried memories of you

but gravediggers exist

and they bring the memories to light

it closely resembles a used mattress. there are so many folds and bends. each one of them has shaped the mattress into what it is. each dent encompasses every downward spiral i’ve been through. every indentation and sense of demarcation reminds me of how far i’ve come.

but, in the end,

who really wants something that’s overused,

i can feel it surround me. my room in my brain that was once white & bright, switches to black & dark instantaneously.