ame sentinelle, murmurons

my lame-ass poetry.
mostly I talk about the ocean and depression.
I write for myself even if it's selfish.
enjoy



Forward
Backward

too many questions

when the days get better, they get worse

nearly there

my legs strain as I reach for the ledge

I’ve lost words with identites

who was Fear, who was Sadness?

is this Hope or Freedom?

Torment was my master

where is He now? Still here? Masquerading with a smile?

Anguish I recognize, clouding thoughts and blurring movements