What happened?
I'm not really sure myself.
I remember walking.
It was cold - probably December;
I blew out breaths, rattling oxygen in my lungs.
Every once in a while I would pass my reflection.
In windows, puddles, signs posted up
I caught a glimpse of my mascara stained cheeks.
I looked mad - deranged even.
I kept thinking nothing would be enough.
I could do nothing to make this right.
There was no certainty in a world of mistakes,
Where my screams rang true.
Because I've just woken up,
But I'm not quite in the realm of reality.
