You are nothing more than the worn out bones you wear.
That you form, with that heart that hammers heavy in soft skin.
While fragile fingers spread, and stretch.
Words coexisting, and constantly forming into a conscious connecting.
But you, are nothing more than you.
Tired, and achingly desperately being.
Breathless ease.
Existing.
Authors Notes: Thank you immensely for reading I hope you've all had a lovely Monday. Good bye for now fellow writers and readers alike~
YOU ARE READING
The Psychological Poetry Collection©~
PoesiaThese are my poems that take on subjects and topic's like depression, schizophrenia, addiction, and other mind-blogging disorders and the like of emotions. I hope you enjoy all the poetry offered here. Art is by:KidChan~
