Scribbled Thoughts

22:67

Manipulated words

try hide the truth

with hinted blame,

but your eyes

cannot lie,

and the greatest

pain is that

this was your

intention rather

than trust.

22:66

Unrest is in your soul

in a way I’ve never

seen before.

Flashes of annoyance

growing more frequent

in my direction.

Does disappointment

haunt us now?

Or is it something

worse than that,

something I can’t fix.

22:65

A pill the size of an acorn

is stuck in my throat.

But I’m not dead.

The blockage slows breathing,

the struggle verbal in the

hard vibration of my body.

People look, but I cannot speak

to ask for help.

They turn away, my noise annoying,

and carry on with their day.

22:63

Memories twist good intentions,

recalling events that shift in tone.

Innocent comments become malevolent,

happy moments stained with doubt.

Perhaps some minds can

feel the opposite

and view harsh words

as gentle, kind guidance.

22:62

Aggression is never passive.

Subtle threats still pierce and stab,

causing the hint and harm intended.

22:61

The leaf falls on the silent road.

No witnesses

as it’s thrown from

everything its ever known.

It drifts on gentle wind

to a hard, unrelenting floor.

A solid ground to rest on,

but never can it

float away.

22:60

Swimming and painting

synchronised in my mind,

both with stroking motions,

forming a path,

a purpose.

Follow the distance

or fill in the colour,

either way

your thoughts calm

with arm strokes.

22:59

Dead pieces of myself

wrap around the living parts,

tugging, growing tighter,

restricting movement

and ambitions

with the reminder

of what’s to come.

22:58

Ripples from the other

side of life

waver into your path,

causing tremors of fear,

echoes of hope,

moments of certainty.