23. Curse

It's Saturday night

And I cannot seem to write

Feelings are countless

But the words do not suffice.

I feel the change building up deep inside

I am not the woman I was in last July

Words are foreign to me, tonight

I feel my heart burn with a desire to write.

It feels different to write so unorganized The guilt I feel inside has started to rise

For the things I wanted to do a different way

I wish I wasn't so careless, not my own bice.

The pain lingers even when I lose my mind

Weren't the receptors to stop working when I died?

The curse of change hurts more than a lie

As I lay sprawled on my death bed with an open eye.