6:26 a.m.
I long for my home sickeningly but i am in the bedroom i was raised in.
I long to be born, free from my mothers womb but i am already breathing oxygen.
I have been with her for the past nine months.
How can she be gone so soon?
"Come back!" I say.
the arms im in are cold
.s
YOU ARE READING
it's 5 a.m. now
Poetrya taste of everything that has made life a little more bitter and on rare occasions; a little sweeter | just an informal way to get thoughts out, i guess
