I must be so selfish to think that,
I could be better.
Like a blackhole in the middle of nowhere,
Consuming my soul slowly,
I feel my vision fading.
Everything is dark.
This feeling is so pleasant.
It's finally accepting the truth.
I might be a dreamer,
But I do not run from the truth as you do.
Rather I let it consume me,
Until I am nothing but a rotten memory.
Maybe I am selfish.
Ah, how ironic.
YOU ARE READING
The Age of Starlight
Poesiaa book of poetry written in the shadows of the night, with the stars as the only light. while the age of starlight was at it's peak. *completed*
