Publisher's Synopsis
Poetry from the ill mind."Nothing new to writeIt is the same every nightMy mind's and my endless fightFor controlFor balanceCan we ever have it?Once so calmNow, parallel to a catastrophic bombI am scattering to collect my piecesReclaiming them from my demonsOne fateful day, I will escapeIt will never be too lateFor a smile to find meaning againLosing all reason to ever pretend."(c) Brianna Hill