When the clock strikes 3

An expression of sadness built up in the past year

My mind is a loaded gun, that fires whenever it wishes
if thoughts were bullets, i'd need more than just stitches.

i don't want these pictures, but when i close the curtains

ill be shadowed with the things that hide, within the crevices of my mind. 

it creeps up on me, even if i try it is certain.

i am never in control of what i think, if this goes on ill need more than just a drink.

i hope things changes soon, as i cannot take much more,

of sinking into depression on the cold hard floor.

everything is normal, til the clock strikes 3

after that, these thoughts are my only company.

my only savior is the sunrise light that splits through the window shade.

but before then id have ruined my bed sheet suede.

imagine every night is cold and cruel

where you feel useless like a broken stool,

when you don't even know why you feel that way

when you don't even know when you'll be okay

nothing bad even happened to me, there's no reason to be this broken

but it feels like years of grief and words unspoken

A clattered place my mind is, where nothing seems to agree

Everything is an enigma to me, when the clock strikes 3.

Reviews

[Emily]

This was amazing!
That first line really pulled me in.
Keep on writing!!

[JM Aytona]

Thank you very much! i really appreciate it!