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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #2170372
Thinking about depression through the simplest thing
Crumbs


There are crumbs in my bed.
I’m supposed to be an adult…
So why do I let this happen?

I have a desk.
I could sit, keep my posture straight
But it’s covered in memories.

If bottles are memories...
I assume that’s where I keep them.
It’s certainly where I keep regrets.

There are crumbs in my bed,
It’s an easy solution
But I’m tired.
I’m always tired.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2170372-Crumbs