Riding on a high horse was my complacency,
Little did I know that with danger looming, like fire meets fuel,
My world will come crashing down,
What was left of it all was the blood of another soul on my hands and quite literally,
The cries of pangs too strong to decipher,
A strangling too painful to bear,
A voice too tingling to hear,
And then my thoughts, at the mercy of my anxiety with a sorrow too embarrassing to accept,
Too many voices in my head,
Telling me what to do,
Telling me how to act,
Making Cadillacs out of ultimatums and sending me into overdrive,
Tension. Tension transitions into turmoil, turning tantrums into tendencies of regret. Cue a pause,
And then I hear the clock strike 6.
Nessa 💜
AFRO387 