The world is ending
Or perhaps the year.
Another number on the calendar,
Still drowning in the same inadequate fears.
Add the time around the sun
Subtract my fervor.
'At least my dream exists in my dreams,'
Words she says to preserve her.
It's just another year.
A number that multiplies my fear.
One more year till my dreams end.
The sand is ticking,
Nothing I create is sticking.
I just wish I could cry.
No, you're too you.
Twenty twenty two,
One day you'll feel a waste too.
I could still be something,
But it's twenty twenty two,
I just wish someone saw me as an ingenue.
It's Twenty twenty two,
One day
You'll feel washed up as a twenty something too.
YOU ARE READING
The World is Gray and Other Truthful Lies
PoesieWhere Faith spills everything in verses and ramblings. If the world is grey, this selection of poetry is black.
