“I need this…now!“The words always loudereach time they hit my earsand I’m tiredand my patience is dying with every thoughtand each step takento keep up with demandsand every wordthat slips from megrows crabbierand less relaxedbecause my minds overfilled and my heart can’t adjustto the demandsmy hearts the size of my fistswhich isn’t that largeand somehowContinue reading “My heart can’t adjust to the demands.”
I’m prone to bouts of anger, short tempered, the overly sensitive type. Writing is a way to make sense of it all. While art is a way in which I can escape the thoughts that haunt me shutting off conscious thought and allowing my hands to guide me.
Temperamentally Tina 