The Fog

For the first time in years i pen something on a paper
Not a to do list or notes and no, not even a letter
For thr first time in years i express myself with words
For the first time in years i write something i don't deem beautiful but at least genuine
For the first time in years i admit am not okay nor happy
For the first time in years i question ky exist and purpose in life
For the first time in years am not afraid or death and the after life
For the first time in years I hate my ex for what she did to me
For the first time in years i admit poetry is like shelter for both the happy and broken
My words may not rhyme or are they mainstream but i assure you they're genuine and raw
For the first time in years i feel both happy and sad, confused and satisfied
Life is full of colors and for the first time in years i get to see colors that are not black or white