If only there were one day a week, month, hell year even, that I didn’t have to feel out of place and unwanted I think I would be ok. This torment I live in is getting older and older each day. Suffering, searching, probbing to find anything to take away the pain. Still he leaves me alone.
Published by ataliep33
I am a mother first, but without these words I spill, I cannot breathe. I am me in my words. No matter who you think I am or what truths you choose to believe. Getting out what I keep inside produces my oxygen, which keeps me alive. If you read these thoughts of mine, please do so with a little rhyme, because while I may seem remedial and soft spoken my heart is one that will never again be broken. View more posts