Sitting in a silent room,
As if nothing really matters.
The painful sounds of things, click, clack, very far away.
But close to my ears, and down the surface of my neck,
Runs emptiness, like nothing seen before.
As I lay in the grass, in my spot I didn't chose,
I notice quite how soft it is;
It must have felt the breeze.
After minutes, hours, days, I'm still here in the grass.
Better so than before
But remaining in my spot.
Over and over and over again,
The clock ticks past the very same second.
I've long since moved.
I've long since chosen.
Though the good people in this world would disagree.
I still feel silence, emptiness; the excess of the past.
They've grown their roots in me,
And now there's no way out.
YOU ARE READING
"She"
Poesía"Some days we're dead. Others we're alive. In all of them we exist." Poetry Collection, accumulation of most of my work. Femminine feelings that can only be felt by some. Inner thoughts, whims and feelings are written here. If I can impact you a...
