Lying on the rug hoping for relief
Just don’t have it in me
Can’t move, think, or blink
Chapped lips
Thirsty for some water
But my bones ache too much
I remain on the rug
Hoping for a jagged reef
And a calming sea
Where my exhausted mind can sink
And where an elixir is in my sip
Parched, wondering what to barter
Not my integrity nor my golden touch
I hold my head up high on the rug
But from here I cannot move
My will has gone for a walk
But my voice will be here when it returns
Categories: identity, mental health, Poetry, Psychology
psychologistmimi 
Love the way you think š
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Thank you:-)
Have a great week ahead
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When Hope And Will Leaves
All Thatās Right to Do Left
Is Living Treeā¦
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Hear hear
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Hi hi PM
Thanks!..:)
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āWhere my exhausted mind can sinkā, Iād like that too some days, and this perfectly sums up when your will has gone walkies and youāre shattered. Beautifully written xx
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Thank you.
Certainly ones will can go for a walk. I get that image!
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Even when down and out you can hold your head up. Bravo.
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Thank you and hear hear!
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My exhausted mind finds solace, on the rugs of other peoples words. Thanks for sharing, a bit of sorrow amongst your myriad posts of joy.
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I like how you framed that! “The rugs of other peoples words”
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