Death circles around your bed
nearing with every rotation.
You wished for it to step swiftly
but would not reach out your hand.
There's nothing more to be said,
no more motivation.
Everything was makeshift.
Gambling the only thing that was grand.
At long last you're dead
no more self-predation.
Life can now shift
away from the damned.
YOU ARE READING
Sitting Here Thinking (2020-2022)
PoetryPoetry of varying subjects and construction, the second of three. Written while sitting anywhere, lost in thought about everything and anything. Accolades: #1 Thought Provoking 2/26/2020 #1 Self-Reflection 3/22/2020 #1 Creative Writing 7/24/2020 #3...
