Like a dumpster filled with things people don’t want
My mind is cluttered
I can’t focus on one thing; my mind starts to wonder.
a dictator of what’s beautiful and true
a malicious invader that makes every encounter blue,
always in disorder, a recorder of everything wrong.
Depression is like a song you hate to sing, dancing to the tune even though you don’t know what the words mean.
My mind is clutter
It’s torture
© T. Carey
