May 3
By the end of the day,
I am folding in on myself.
Collapsing from a practical machine,
To a formless animation.
So at sleep,
I forge myself back together.
Pushing muscles back to bone,
Pressing curves into place.
Ready for another day.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry For The Lost People
Poetry365 observations and comments about society, life and love throughout 2022. Come with me on my journey day by day, as I write what I've always wanted to say. There is no method or planning, just thoughts and perceptions about the way of the world. A...
