5 a.m

It was the day before but not the day after that I saw what never had been seen. What magic and grace hides behind the human face. My body intertwined with depression, addiction, and to put it nicely insanity; stood before a mirror but I did not stand still. For my own eyes can only describe a mess of words that at once no one heard. I am not asking to be found, I am not asking for you to stick around; I just want a chance that every other writer gets to achieve. I may not be the best, I may not stand out against the rest but my plea to you is that you consider these words. The words flow fast but could also be my last. I have a collection of traits that I will not be using as click bait. My name is written on a scrap of paper, from a poster no one has heard of, crumbled up and thrown away. I always give my most and am always seen as a ghost. I speak and not yell, my story I do tell; and as I blink my eyes I see mayhem and I think to myself, it's only 5 a.m