I Stand Alone (pt.1)
Alone in this crowded room with my mind so clouded, I feel as if I were riding on a witches broom, right next to an airplane. My eyesight is blurry, but some how, I see all of the negativity in bold text; mounted to every wall, causing me to scream, snatch out my hair, and crawl with weakness. I boldy avoid getting stitches for all of my open wounds, because i’d rather deal with the pain while I contemplate whether I should let it be, or self-heal.
Now see, through all of the pain, that I have endured, I stood alone, and still, I stand alone...
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Island Princess
9aNice poem
wether = whether.
Robert L. Martin
9aWe are the truest judge of our afflictions, because we can feel our pain.